JOSEPH  A 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE  HOSTS 
OF  THE  AIR 


By  Joseph  A.  Altsheler 

THE  FRENCH  AND  INDIAN  WAR  SERIES 

The  Hunters  of  the  Hills  The  Shadow  of  the  North 

The  Rulers  of  the  Lakes  The  Masters  of  the  Peaks 

The  Lords  of  the  Wild  The  Sun  of  Quebec 

THE  GREAT  WEST  SERIES 

The  Lost  Hunters  The  Great  Sioux  Trail 

THE  CIVIL  WAR  SERIES 

The  Guns  of  Bull  Run  The  Star  of  Gettysburg 

The  Guns  of  Shiloh  The  Rock  of  Chickamauga 

The  Scouts  of  Stonewall  The  Shades  of  the  Wilderness 

The  Sword  of  Antietam  The  Tree  of  Apporaattox 

THE  WORLD  WAR  SERIES 

The  Guns  of  Europe 
The  Forest  of  Swords  The  Hosts  of  the  Air 

THE  YOUNG  TRAILERS  SERIES 

The  Young  Trailers  The  Free  Rangers 

The  Forest  Runners  The  Riflemen  of  the  Ohio 

The  Keepers  of  the  Trail  The  Scouts  of  the  Valley 

The  Eyes  of  the  Woods  The  Border  Watch 

THE  TEXAN  SERIES 

The  Texan  Star 
The  Texan  Scouts  The  Texan  Triumph 

BOOKS  NOT  IN  SERIES 

Apache  Gold  A  Soldier  of  Manhattan 

The  Quest  of  the  Four  The  Sun  of  Saratoga 

The  Last  of  the  Chiefs  A  Herald  of  the  West 

In  Circling  Camps  The  Wilderness  Road 

The  Last  Rebel  My  Captive 


D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY,  NEW  YORK 

167J~~  ————————— 


The  Hosts  of  the  Aii 


WORLD        WAR        SEEIES 

THE   HOSTS 
OF  THE  AIR 


THE  STORY  OF  A  QUEST 
IN  THE   GREAT   WAR 


BY 


JOSEPH   A.    ALTSHELER 

AUTHOR  OF  "THB  GUNS  OF  EUROPE," 
"THE  FOKEST  OP  SWOBDS,"  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 

CHARLES  WRENN 


D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

NEW    YORK    AND    LONDON 

1920 


COPTEIQHT,  1915,  BT 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


PS 

\t>3<} 


FOREWORD 

"The  Hosts  of  the  Air"  is  the  third  and  concluding 
volume  of  the  World  War  Series,  of  which  "The  Forest 
of  Swords"  and  "The  Guns  of  Europe"  were  the  pred 
ecessors.  It  deals  primarily  with  the  love  story  of  John 
Scott  and  Julie  Lannes,  but  all  the  characters  of  the 
earlier  books  reappear  in  this  romance  also. 


772807 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAG8 

I.  THE  TRENCH .  i 

II.  THE  YOUNG  AUSTRIAN 25 

III.  JULIE'S  COMING 45 

IV.  THE  HOTEL  AT  CHASTEL 70 

V.  THE  REGISTER           87 

VI.  JOHN'S  RESOLVE 108 

VII.  THE  PURSUIT 128 

VIII.  INTO  GERMANY 160 

IX.  THE  GREAT  CASTLE 179 

X.  THE  FAIR  CAPTIVE 200 

XL  THE  EFFICIENT  HOSTLER 225 

XII.  THE  HUNTING  LODGE 248 

XIII.  THE  DANGEROUS  FLIGHT 278 

XIV.  THE  HAPPY  ESCAPE  .......  299 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING 
PACK 

The  Hosts  of  the  Air  .          .          .        Frontispiece 

"  Once  they  came  to  the  very  edge  of  the  trench 
to  be  slain  there "  .          .          .          .28 

'You!  You!     Is  it  really  you? '  she  cried  "         .  260 

"  Now  the  aeroplanes  flew  at  almost  incredible  speed, 
the  Arrow  always  at  their  head"  .          .322 


THE 

HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   TRENCH 

A  YOUNG  man  was  shaving.  His  feet  rested 
upon  a  broad  plank  embedded  in  mud,  and 
the  tiny  glass  in  which  he  saw  himself  hung 
upon  a  wall  of  raw,  reeking  earth.  A  sky,  somber 
and  leaden,  arched  above  him,  and  now  and  then 
flakes  of  snow  fell  in  the  sodden  trench,  but  John 
Scott  went  on  placidly  with  his  task. 

The  face  that  looked  back  at  him  had  been  changed 
greatly  in  the  last  six  months.  The  smoothness  of 
early  youth  was  gone — for  the  time — and  serious 
lines  showed  about  the  mouth  and  eyes.  His  cheeks 
were  thinner  and  there  was  a  slight  sinking  at  the 
temples,  telling  of  great  privations,  and  of  dangers 
endured.  But  the  features  were  much  stronger.  The 
six  months  had  been  in  effect  six  years.  The  boy  of 
Dresden  had  become  the  man  of  the  trenches. 

He  finished,  rubbed  his  hand  over  his  face  to 
satisfy  himself  that  the  last  trace  of  young  beard  and 
mustache  was  gone,  put  away  his  shaving  materials 

i 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

in  a  little  niche  that  he  had  dug  with  his  own  hands 
in  the  wall  of  the  trench,  and  turned  to  the  English 
man. 

"Am  I  all  right,  Carstairs?"  he  asked. 

"You  do  very  well.  There's  mud  on  your  boots, 
but  I  suppose  you  can't  help  it.  The  melting  snow 
in  our  trench  makes  soggy  footing  in  spite  of  all  we 
can  do.  But  you're  trim,  Scott.  That  new  gray 
uniform  with  the  blue  threads  running  through  it 
becomes  you.  All  the  Strangers  are  thankful  for 
the  change.  It's  a  great  improvement  over  those  long 
blue  coats  and  baggy  red  trousers." 

"But  we  don't  have  any  chance  to  show  'em," 
said  Wharton,  who  sat  upon  a  small  stool,  reading  a 
novel.  "Did  I  ever  think  that  war  would  come  to 
this?  Buried  while  yet  alive!  A  few  feet  of  cold 
and  muddy  trench  in  which  to  pass  one's  life!  This 
is  an  English  story  I'm  reading.  The  lovely  Lady 
Ermentrude  and  the  gallant  Sir  Harold  are  walking 
in  the  garden  among  the  roses,  and  he's  about  to 
ask  her  the  great  question.  There  are  roses,  roses, 
and  the  deep  green  grass  and  greener  oaks  every 
where,  with  the  soft  English  shadows  coming  and 
going  over  them.  The  birds  are  singing  in  the  boughs. 
I  suppose  they're  nightingales,  but  do  nightingales 
sing  in  the  daytime?  And  when  I  shut  my  book  I 
see  only  walls  of  raw,  red  earth,  and  a  floor,  likewise 
of  earth,  but  stickier  and  more  hideous.  Even  the 
narrow  strip  of  sky  above  our  heads  is  the  color  of 
lead,  and  has  nothing  soft  about  it." 

"If  you'll  stand  up  straight,"  said  John,  "maybe 

2 


THE  TRENCH 

you'll  &ee  the  rural  landscape  for  which  you're  evi 
dently  longing." 

"And  catch  a  German  bullet  between  the  eyes! 
Not  for  me.  While  I  was  taking  a  trip  down  to  the 
end  of  our  line  this  morning  I  raised  my  head  by 
chance  above  the  edge  of  the  trench,  and  quick  as  a 
wink  a  sharpshooter  cut  off  one  of  my  precious  brown 
locks.  I  could  have  my  hair  trimmed  that  way  if  I 
were  patient  and  careful  enough.  Ah,  here  comes  a 
messenger!" 

They  heard  a  roar  that  turned  to  a  shriek,  and 
caught  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  a  black  shadow  passing 
over  their  heads.  Then  a  huge  shell  burst  behind 
them,  and  the  air  was  filled  with  hissing  fragments 
of  steel.  But  in  their  five  feet  of  earth  they  were 
untouched,  although  horrible  fumes  as  of  lyddite  or 
some  other  hideous  compound  assailed  them. 

"This  is  the  life,"  said  Wharton,  resuming  his  usual 
cheerfulness.  "I  take  back  what  I  said  about  our 
beautiful  trench.  Just  now  I  appreciate  it  more  than 
I  would  the  greenest  and  loveliest  landscape  in  Eng 
land  or  all  America.  Oh,  it's  a  glorious  trench!  A 
splendid  fortress  for  weak  human  flesh,  finer  than  any 
castle  that  was  ever  built !" 

"Don't  be  dithyrambic,  Wharton,"  said  Carstairs. 
"Besides  the  change  is  too  sudden.  It  hasn't  been  a 
minute  since  you  were  pouring  abuse  upon  our  safe 
and  happy  little  trench." 

"It's  time  for  the  Germans  to  begin,"  said  John, 
looking  at  his  watch.  "We'd  better  lie  close  for  the 
next  hour." 

3 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

They  heard  the  shrieking  of  more  shells  and  soon 
the  whole  earth  rocked  with  the  fire  of  the  great 
guns.  The  hostile  trenches  were  only  a  few  hundred 
yards  in  front  of  them,  but  the  German  batteries  all 
masked,  or  placed  in  pits,  were  much  further  away. 
The  French  cannon  were  stationed  in  like  fashion 
behind  their  own  trenches. 

John  and  his  comrades,  for  the  allotted  hour, 
hugged  the  side  of  the  trench  nearest  to  the  Germans. 
The  shells  from  the  heavy  guns  came  at  regular 
intervals.  Far  in  the  rear  men  were  killed  and  others 
were  wounded,  but  no  fragment  of  steel  dropped  in 
their  trench.  There  was  not  much  danger  unless  one  of 
the  shells  should  burst  almost  directly  over  their  heads, 
and  they  were  so  used  to  these  bombardments  that 
they  paid  little  attention  to  them,  except  to  keep  close 
as  long  as  they  lasted. 

Wharton  resumed  his  novel,  Carstairs,  sitting  on 
one  end  of  a  rude  wooden  bench,  began  a  game  of 
solitaire,  and  John,  at  the  other  end,  gave  himself 
over  to  dreaming,  which  the  regulated  thunder  of  many 
cannon  did  not  disturb  at  all. 

It  had  been  months  now  since  he  had  parted  with 
Philip  and  Julie  Lannes.  He  had  seen  Philip  twice 
since,  but  Julie  not  at  all.  When  the  German  army 
made  a  successful  stand  near  the  river  Aisne,  and 
both  sides  went  into  trenches,  Lannes  had  come  in 
the  Arrow  and,  in  reply  to  John's  restrained  but  none 
the  less  eager  questions,  had  said  that  Julie  was  safe 
in  Paris  again  with  her  mother,  Antoine  Picard  and 
the  faithful  Suzanne.  She  had  wanted  to  return  to 

4 


THE  TRENCH 

the  front  as  a  Red  Cross  nurse,  but  Madame  Lannes 
would  not  let  her  go. 

A  month  later  he  saw  Lannes  again  and  Julie  was 
still  in  the  capital,  but  he  inferred  from  Philip's 
words  rather  than  his  tone  that  she  was  impatient. 
Thousands  of  French  girls  were  at  the  front,  attend 
ing  to  the  wounded,  and  sharing  hardship  and  danger. 
John  knew  that  Julie  had  a  will  like  her  brother's  and 
he  believed  that,  in  time,  she  would  surely  come  again 
to  the  battle  lines. 

The  thought  made  him  smile,  and  he  felt  a  light 
glow  pass  over  his  face.  Be  knew  it  was  due  to  the 
belief  that  he  would  see  Julie  once  more,  and  yet  the 
trenches  now  extended  about  four  hundred  miles 
across  Northern  France  and  Belgium.  The  chances 
seemed  a  hundred  to  one  against  her  arrival  in  the 
particular  trench,  honored  by  the  presence  of  the 
Strangers,  but  John  felt  that  in  reality  they  were  a 
hundred  to  one  in  favor  of  it.  He  wished  it  so 
earnestly  that  it  must  come  true. 

"You're  smiling,  Scott,"  said  Carstairs.  "A  good 
honest  English  penny  for  your  thoughts." 

"What  do  I  care  for  money?  What  could  I  do 
with  it  if  I  had  it,  held  here  between  walls  of  mud 
only  four  feet  apart?" 

"At  least,"  interrupted  Wharton,  "the  high  cost  of 
living  is  not  troubling  us.  Next  month's  rent  may 
come  from  where  it  pleases.  It  doesn't  bother  me." 

A  messenger  turned  the  angle  of  the  trench  and 
summoned  John  to  the  presence  of  his  commander, 
Captain  Colton,  who  was  about  three  hundred  yards 

5 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

away.  Young  Scott,  stooping  in  order  to  keep  his 
head  covered  well,  started  down  the  trench.  The  ar 
tillery  fire  was  at  its  height.  The  waves  of  air  fol 
lowed  one  another  with  great  violence,  and  the  fumes 
of  picric  acid  and  of  other  acids  that  he  did  not  know 
became  very  strong.  But  he  scarcely  noticed  it.  The 
bombardment  was  all  in  the  day's  work,  and  when 
the  Germans  ceased,  the  French,  after  a  decent  inter 
val,  would  begin  their  own  cannonade,  carried  on  at 
equal  length. 

John  thought  little  of  the  fire  of  the  guns,  now 
almost  a  regular  affair  like  the  striking  of  a  clock, 
but  force  of  habit  kept  his  head  down  and  no  German 
sharpshooter  watching  in  the  trench  opposite  had  a 
chance  at  him.  He  advanced  through  a  vast  burrow. 
Trenches  ran  parallel,  and  other  trenches  cut  across 
them.  One  could  wander  through  them  for  miles. 
Most  of  them  were  uncovered,  but  others  had  roofs, 
partial  or  complete,  of  thatch  or  boards  or  canvas. 
Many  had  little  alcoves  and  shelves,  dug  out  by  the 
patient  hands  of  the  soldiers,  and  these  niches  con 
tained  their  most  precious  belongings. 

Back  of  the  trenches  often  lay  great  heaps  of 
refuse  like  the  kitchen  middens  of  primeval  man. 
Attempts  at  coziness  had  achieved  a  little  success  in 
some  places,  but  nearly  everywhere  the  abode  of  bur 
rowing  soldiers  was  raw,  rank  and  fetid.  Heavy  and 
hideous  odors  arose  from  the  four  hundred  miles  of 
unwashed  armies.  Men  lived  amid  disease,  dirt  and 
death.  Civilization  built  up  slowly  through  painful 
centuries  had  come  to  a  sudden  stop,  and  once  more 

6 


THE  TRENCH 

they  were  savages  in  caves  seeking  to  destroy  one 
another. 

This,  at  least,  was  the  external  aspect  of  it,  but 
the  flower  of  civilization  was  still  sound  at  the  stem. 
When  the  storm  was  over  it  would  grow  and  bloom 
again  amid  the  wreckage.  French  and  Germans,  in 
the  intervals  of  battle,  were  often  friendly  with  each 
other.  They  listened  to  the  songs  of  the  foe,  and 
sometimes  at  night  they  talked  together.  John 
recognized  the  feeling.  He  knew  that  man  at  the 
core  had  not  really  returned  to  a  savage  state,  and 
a  soldier,  but  not  a  believer  in  war,  he  looked  for 
ward  to  the  time  when  the  grass  should  grow  again 
over  the  vast  maze  of  trenches. 

A  shell  bursting  almost  overhead  put  all  such 
thoughts  out  of  his  mind  for  the  present.  A  hot 
piece  of  metal  shooting  downward  struck  on  the  bot 
tom  of  the  trench  and  lay  there  hissing.  John  stepped 
over  it  and  passed  on. 

The  cannonade  was  at  its  height,  and  he  noticed 
that  it  was  heavier  than  usual.  Perhaps  the  increase 
of  volume  was  due  to  the  presence  of  some  great  digni 
tary,  the  Kaiser  himself  maybe,  or  the  Crown  Prince, 
or  the  Chief  of  the  General  Staff.  But  it  was  only  a 
flitting  thought.  The  subject  did  not  interest  him  much. 

The  sky  was  turning  darker  and  the  heavy  flakes 
of  snow  fell  faster.  John  looked  up  apprehensively. 
Snow  now  troubled  him  more  than  guns.  It  was 
no  welcome  visitor  in  the  trenches  where  it  flooded 
some  of  them  so  badly  as  it  melted  that  the  men 
were  compelled  to  move. 

7 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

As  he  walked  along  he  was  hailed  by  many  friendly 
voices.  He  was  well  known  in  that  part  of  the  gigantic 
burrow,  and  the  adaptable  young  American  had  be 
come  a  great  favorite,  not  only  with  the  Strangers, 
but  with  his  French  comrades.  Fleury,  coming  out 
of  a  transverse  cut,  greeted  him.  The  Savoyard  had 
escaped  during  the  fighting  on  the  Aisne,  and  had 
rejoined  the  command  of  General  Vaugirard,  wounded 
in  the  arm,  but  now  recovered. 

"Duty?"  he  said  to  John. 

"Yes.  Captain  Colton  has  sent  for  me,  but  I  don't 
know  what  he  wants." 

"Don't  get  yourself  captured  again.  Twice  is 
enough." 

"I  won't.  There  isn't  much  taking  of  prisoners 
while  both  sides  keep  to  their  holes." 

Fleury  disappeared  in  one  of  the  earthy  aisles,  and 
John  went  on,  turning  a  little  later  into  an  aisle  also, 
and  arriving  at  Captain  Colton's  post. 

Daniel  Colton  had  for  his  own  use  a  wooden  bench 
three  feet  long,  set  in  an  alcove  dug  in  the  clay.  Some 
boards  and  the  arch  of  the  earth  formed  an  uncertain 
shelter.  An  extra  uniform  hung  against  the  wall  of 
earth,  and  he  also  had  a  tiny  looking-glass  and  shav 
ing  materials.  He  was  as  thin  and  dry  as  ever,  ad 
dicted  to  the  use  of  words  of  one  syllable,  and 
sparing  even  with  them. 

John  saluted.  He  had  a  great  respect  and  liking 
for  his  captain. 

"Sit  down,"  said  Captain  Colton,  making  room  on 
the  bench. 

8 


THE  TRENCH 

John  sat. 

"Know  well  a  man  named  Weber?" 

"Yes,"  replied  John  in  surprise.  He  had  not  thought 
of  the  Alsatian  in  days,  and  yet  they  had  been  together 
in  some  memorable  moments. 

"Thought  you'd  say  so.  Been  here  an  hour.  Asks 
for  you.  Must  see  you,  he  says." 

"I'll  be  glad  to  meet  him  again,  sir.  I've  a  regard 
for  him.  We've  shared  some  great  dangers.  You've 
heard  that  he  was  in  the  armored  automobile  with 
Carstairs,  Wharton  and  myself  that  time  we  ran  it 
into  the  river?" 

Captain  Colton  nodded. 

"Then  we  were  captured  and  both  escaped  dur 
ing  the  righting  along  the  Marne.  Lannes  took  me 
away  in  his  aeroplane,  but  we  missed  Weber.  I 
thought,  though,  that  he'd  get  back  to  us,  and  I'm 
glad,  very  glad  that  he's  here." 

"See  him  now,"  said  Colton,  "and  find  out  what 
he  wants." 

He  blew  a  whistle,  and  an  orderly  appeared,  salut 
ing. 

"Bring  Weber,"  said  the  captain. 

The  orderly  returned  with  Weber,  the  two  coming 
from  one  of  the  narrow  aisles,  and  John  rose  im 
pulsively  to  meet  the  Alsatian.  But  before  offering 
his  hand  Weber  saluted  the  captain. 

"Go  ahead.    Tell  all,"  said  Colton  briefly. 

Weber  first  shook  John's  hand  warmly.  Evidently 
he  had  not  been  living  the  life  of  the  trenches,  as 
he  looked  fresh,  and  his  cheeks  were  full  of  color. 

9 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

His  gray  uniform,  with  the  blue  threads  through  it, 
was  neat  and  clean,  and  his  black  pointed  beard  was 
trimmed  like  that  of  a  painter  with  money. 

"We're  old  comrades  in  war,  Mr.  Scott,"  he  said, 
"and  I'm  glad,  very  glad  to  find  you  again.  You 
and  Lannes  left  me  rather  abruptly  that  time  near 
the  Marne,  but  it  was  the  only  thing  you  could  do. 
If  by  an  effort  of  the  mind  I  could  have  sent  a  wire 
less  message  to  you  I'd  have  urged  you  to  instant 
flight.  I  hid  in  the  bushes,  in  time  reached  one  of 
our  armies,  and  since  then  I've  been  a  bearer  of 
dispatches  along  the  front.  I  heard  some  time  back 
that  you  were  still  alive,  but  my  duty  hitherto  has 
kept  me  from  seeing  you.  Now,  it  sends  me  to  you." 

His  tone,  at  first  eager  and  joyous,  as  was  fitting 
in  an  old  friend  meeting  an  old  friend,  now  became 
very  grave,  and  John  looked  at  him  with  some  ap 
prehension.  Captain  Colton  motioned  to  a  small 
stool. 

"Sit  down,"  he  said  to  Weber.  Then  he  offered 
the  Alsatian  a  match  and  a  cigarette  which  were 
accepted  gratefully.  He  made  the  same  offer  to  John, 
who  shook  his  head  saying  that  he  did  not  smoke. 
The  captain  took  two  or  three  deliberate  puffs,  and  con 
templated  Weber  who  had  made  himself  comfortable 
on  the  stool. 

"Military  duty?"  he  asked.  "If  so,  Scott's  concern 
is  my  concern  too." 

"That  is  quite  true,  Captain  Colton,"  said  Weber, 
respectfully.  "As  Mr.  Scott  is  under  your  command 
you  have  a  right  to  know  what  message  I  bring." 

10 


THE  TRENCH 

"Knew  you'd  see  it,"  said  Colton,  taking  another 
puff  at  his  cigarette.  "There!  Germans  have  ceased 
firing!" 

"And  our  men  begin!"  said  John. 

The  moment  the  distant  German  thunder  ceased 
the  French  reply,  nearer  at  hand  and  more  like  a  roll 
ing  crash,  began.  It  would  continue  about  an  hour, 
that  is  until  nightfall,  unless  the  heavy  clouds  and 
falling  snow  brought  darkness  much  earlier  than  usual. 
The  flakes  were  coming  faster,  but  the  three  were  pro 
tected  from  them  by  the  rude  board  shelter.  John 
again  glanced  anxiously  at  Weber.  He  felt  that  his 
news  was  of  serious  import. 

"I  saw  your  friend  Lieutenant  Philip  Lannes  about 
three  weeks  ago  at  a  village  called  Catreaux,  lying 
sixty  miles  west  of  us,"  said  Weber.  "He  had  just 
made  a  long  flight  from  the  west,  where  he  had 
observed  much  of  the  heavy  fighting  around  Ypres, 
and  also  had  been  present  when  the  Germans  made 
their  great  effort  to  break  through  to  Dunkirk  and 
Calais.  I  hear  that  he  had  more  than  a  messenger's 
share  in  these  engagements,  throwing  some  timely 
bombs." 

"Was  he  well  when  you  saw  him?"  asked  John. 
"He  had  not  been  hurt?  He  had  not  been  in  any 
accident?" 

"He  was  in  the  best  of  health,  hard  and  fit.  But 
his  activities  in  the  Arrow  had  diminished  recently. 
Snow,  rain,  icy  hail  make  difficulties  and  dangers  for 
aviators.  But  we  wander.  He  had  not  heard  from 
his  mother,  Madame  Lannes,  or  his  sister,  the  beau- 

II 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

tiful  Mademoiselle  Julie,  for  a  long  time,  and  he 
seemed  anxious  about  them." 

"He  himself  took  Mademoiselle  Julie  back  to  Paris 
in  the  Arrow,"  said  John. 

"So  he  told  me.  They  arrived  safely,  as  you  know, 
but  Lannes  was  compelled  to  leave  immediately  for 
the  extreme  western  front.  The  operations  there  were 
continuous  and  so  exacting  that  he  has  been  unable 
to  return  to  Paris.  He  has  not  heard  from  his  mother 
and  sister  in  more  than  two  months,  and  his  great 
anxiety  about  them  is  quite  natural." 

"But  since  the  retreat  of  the  Germans  there 
is  no  danger  in  Paris  save  from  an  occasional 
bomb." 

"No.  But  a  few  days  after  seeing  Lannes  my  own 
duties  as  a  messenger  carried  me  back  to  Paris,  and 
I  took  it  upon  myself  to  visit  Lannes'  house.  I  had 
two  objects,  both  I  hope  justifiable.  I  wanted  to  take 
to  them  good  news  of  Lannes  and  I  wanted  to  take 
to  Lannes  good  news  of  them." 

"You  found  them  there?"  said  John,  his  anxiety 
showing  in  his  tone. 

"I  did.  But  a  letter  from  Lannes,  by  good  luck, 
had  just  come  through  the  day  before.  It  was  a 
noble  letter.  It  expressed  the  fine  spirit  of  that  brave 
young  man,  a  spirit  universal  now  throughout  France. 
He  said  the  fighting  had  been  so  severe  and  the 
wounded  were  so  many  that  all  Frenchwomen  who 
had  the  skill  and  strength  to  help  must  come  to  the 
hospitals,  where  the  hurt  in  scores  of  thousands  were 
lying." 

12 


THE  TRENCH 

"Did  he  mention  any  point  to  which  she  was  to 
come?" 

"A  village  just  behind  the  fortress  of  Verdun.  To 
say  that  she  was  willing  was  not  enough.  A  great 
spirit,  a  magnificent  spirit,  Mr.  Scott.  The  soul  of 
chivalry  may  dwell  in  the  heart  of  a  young  girl.  She 
was  eager  to  go.  Madame,  her  mother,  would  have 
gone  too,  but  she  was  ill,  so  she  remained  in  the 
house,  while  the  beautiful  Mademoiselle  Julie  departed 
with  the  great  peasant,  Antoine  Picard,  and  his 
daughter  Suzanne." 

"Do  you  know  how  they  went?" 

"By  rail,  I  think,  as  far  as  they  could  go,  and 
thence  they  were  to  travel  by  motor  to  the  tiny 
village  of  Chastel,  their  destination.  Knowing  your 
interest  in  Mademoiselle  Julie,  I  thought  it  would 
not  displease  you  to  hear  this.  Chastel  is  no  vast 
distance  from  this  point." 

A  blush  would  have  been  visible  on  John's  face  had 
he  not  been  tanned  so  deeply,  but  he  felt  no  resent 
ment.  Captain  Colton  took  his  cigarette  from  his 
lips  and  said  tersely: 

"Every  man  likes  a  pretty  face.  Man  who 
doesn't — no  man  at  all." 

"I  agree  with  you,  Captain  Colton,"  said  Weber 
heartily.  "When  I  no  longer  notice  a  beautiful  woman 
I  think  it  will  be  time  for  me  to  die.  But  I  take  no 
liberty,  sir,  when  I  say  that  in  all  the  garden  of 
flowers  Mademoiselle  Julie  Lannes  is  the  rarest  and 
loveliest.  She  is  the  delicate  and  opening  rose  touched 
at  dawn  with  pearly  dew." 

13 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"A  poet,  Weber!  A  poet!"  interjected  Captain 
Colton. 

"No,  sir,  I  but  speak  the  truth,"  said  Weber  seri 
ously.  "Mademoiselle  Julie  Lannes,  though  a  young 
girl  but  yet,  promises  to  become  the  most  beautiful 
woman  in  Europe,  and  beauty  carries  with  it  many 
privileges.  Men  may  have  political  equality,  but 
women  can  never  have  an  equality  of  locks." 

"Right,  Weber,"  said  Captain  Colton. 

John's  pulses  had  begun  to  leap.  Julie  was  coming 
back  to  the  front,  and  she  would  not  be  so  far  away. 
Some  day  he  might  see  her  again.  But  he  felt 
anxiety. 

"Is  the  journey  to  Chastel  safe,  after  she  leaves  the 
railway?"  he  asked  of  Weber. 

"Is  anything  safe  now?" 

"Nothing  in  Europe,"  interjected  Captain  Colton. 

"But  I  don't  think  Mademoiselle  Lannes  will  incur 
much  danger,"  said  Weber.  "It's  true,  roving  bands 
of  Uhlans  or  hussars  sometimes  pass  in  our  rear,  but 
it's  likely  that  she  and  other  French  girls  going  to  the 
front  march  under  strong  escort." 

His  tone  was  reassuring,  but  his  words  left  John 
still  troubled. 

"My  object  in  telling  you  of  Mademoiselle  Lannes' 
movements,  Mr.  Scott,"  continued  Weber,  "was  to 
enable  you  to  notify  Lieutenant  Lannes  of  her  exact 
location  in  case  you  should  see  him.  Knowing  your 
great  friendship  I  thought  it  inevitable  that  you  two 
should  soon  meet  once  more.  If  so,  tell  him  that  his 
sister  is  at  Chastel.  He  will  be  glad  to  know  of 

14 


THE  TRENCH 

her  arrival  and,  work  permitting,  will  hurry  to  her 
there." 

"Gladly  I'll  do  it,"  said  John.  "I  wish  I  could  see 
Philip  now." 

But  when  he  said  "Philip"  he  was  thinking  of  Julie, 
although  the  bond  of  friendship  between  him  and 
young  Lannes  had  not  diminished  one  whit. 

"And  now,"  said  Weber,  "with  Captain  Colton's 
permission  I'll  go.  My  duties  take  me  southward,  and 
night  is  coming  fast." 

"And  it  will  be  dark,  cold  and  snowy,"  said  John, 
shivering  a  little.  "These  trenches  are  not  exactly 
palace  halls,  but  I'd  rather  be  in  them  now  than  out 
there  on  such  a  night." 

The  dusk  had  come  and  the  French  fire  was  dying. 
In  a  few  more  minutes  it  would  cease  entirely,  and 
then  the  French  hour  with  the  guns  having  matched 
the  German  hour,  the  night  would  be  without  battle. 

But  the  silence  that  succeeded  the  thunder  of  the 
guns  was  somber.  In  all  that  terrible  winter  John 
had  not  seen  a  more  forbidding  night.  The  snow  in 
creased  and  with  it  came  a  strong  wind  that  reached 
them  despite  their  shelter.  The  muddy  trenches  began 
to  freeze  lightly,  but  the  men's  feet  broke  through  the 
film  of  ice  and  they  walked  in  an  awful  slush.  It 
seemed  impossible  that  the  earth  could  ever  have  been 
green  and  warm  and  sunny,  and  that  Death  was  not 
always  sitting  at  one's  elbow. 

The  darkness  was  heavy,  but  nevertheless  as  they 
talked  they  did  not  dare  to  raise  their  heads  above 
the  trenches.  The  German  searchlights  might  blaze 

15 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

upon  them  at  any  moment,  showing  the  mark  for 
the  sharpshooters.  But  Captain  Colton  pressed  his 
electric  torch  and  the  three  in  the  earthy  alcove  saw 
one  another  well. 

"Will  you  go  to  Chastel  yourself?"  asked  John  of 
Weber. 

"Not  at  present.  I  bear  a  message  which  takes  me 
in  the  Forest  of  Argonne,  but  I  shall  return  along 
this  line  in  a  day  or  two,  and  it  may  be  that  I  can 
reach  the  village.  If  so,  I  shall  tell  Mademoiselle 
Julie  and  the  Picards  that  I  have  seen  you  here,  and 
perhaps  I  can  communicate  also  with  Lannes." 

"I  thank  you  for  your  kindness  in  coming  to  tell 
me  this." 

"It  was  no  more  than  I  should  have  done.  I  knew 
you  would  be  glad  to  hear,  and  now,  with  your  per 
mission,  Captain  Colton,  I'll  go." 

"Take  narrow,  transverse  trench,  leading  south. 
Good  of  you  to  see  us,"  said  the  captain  of  the 
Strangers. 

The  Alsatian  shook  hands  with  John  and  disap 
peared  in  the  cut  which  led  a  long  distance  from  the 
front.  Colton  extinguished  the  torch  and  the  two 
sat  a  little  while  in  the  darkness.  Although  vast  armies 
faced  one  another  along  a  front  of  four  hundred 
miles,  little  could  be  heard  where  John  and  his  cap 
tain  sat,  save  the  sighing  of  the  wind  and  the  faint 
sound  made  by  the  steady  fall  of  the  snow,  which 
was  heaping  up  at  their  feet. 

Not  z.  light  shone  in  the  trench.  John  knew  that 
innumerable  sentinels  were  on  guard,  striving  to  see  and 

16 


THE  TRENCH 

hear,  but  a  million  or  two  million  men  lay  buried  alive 
there,  while  the  snow  drifted  down  continually.  The 
illusion  that  the  days  of  primeval  man  had  come  back 
was  strong  upon  him  again.  They  had  become,  in 
effect,  cave-dwellers  once  more,  and  their  chief  object 
was  to  kill.  He  listened  to  the  light  swish  of  the 
snow,  and  thought  of  the  blue  heights  into  which  he 
had  often  soared  with  Lannes. 

Captain  Colton  lighted  another  cigarette  and  it 
glowed  in  the  dark. 

"Uncanny,"  he  said. 

"I  find  it  more  so  than  usual  tonight/'  said  John. 
"Maybe  it's  the  visit  of  Weber  that  makes  me  feel 
that  way,  recalling  to  me  that  I  was  once  a  man,  a 
civilized  human  being  who  bathed  regularly  and  who 
put  on  clean  clothes  at  frequent  intervals." 

"Such  days  may  come  again — for  some  of  us." 

"So  they  may.  But  it's  ghastly  here,  holed  up  like 
animals  for  the  winter." 

"Comparison  not  fair  to  animals.  They  choose 
snug  dens.  Warm  leaves  and  brush  all  about  'em." 

"While  we  lie  or  stand  in  mud  or  snow.  After 
all,  Captain,  the  animals  have  more  sense  in  some 
ways  than  we.  They  kill  one  another  only  for  food, 
while  we  kill  because  of  hate  or  ignorance." 

"Mostly  ignorance." 

"I  suppose  so.    Hear  that !    It's  a  pleasant  sound." 

"So  it  is.    Makes  me  think  of  home." 

Some  one  further  down  the  trench  was  playing  a 
mouth  organ.  It  was  merely  a  thin  stream  of  sound, 
but  it  had  a  soft  seductive  note.  The  tune  was 

17 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

American,  a  popular  air.  It  was  glorified  so  far 
away  and  in  such  terrible  places,  and  John  suddenly 
grew  sick  for  home  and  the  pleasant  people  in  the 
sane  republic  beyond  the  seas.  But  he  crushed  the 
emotion  and  listened  in  silence  as  the  player  played 
on. 

"A  hundred  of  those  little  mouth-organs  reached 
our  brigade  this  morning,"  said  Colton.  "Men  in 
the  trenches  must  have  something  to  lift  up  their 
minds,  and  little  things  outside  current  of  war  will 
do  it." 

It  was  a  long  speech  for  him  to  make  and  John 
felt  its  truth,  but  he  atoned  for  it  by  complete  silence 
while  they  listened  to  many  tunes,  mostly  American, 
played  on  the  mouth-organ.  John's  mind  continually 
went  back  to  the  great  republic  overseas,  so  safe  and 
so  sane.  While  he  was  listening  to  the  thin  tinkle 
in  the  dark  and  snowy  trench  his  friends  were  going 
to  the  great  opera  house  in  New  York  to  hear  "Aida" 
or  "Lohengrin"  maybe.  And  yet  he  would  not  have 
been  back  there.  The  wish  did  not  occur  to  him. 
Through  the  dark  and  the  snow  he  saw  the  golden 
hair  and  the  deep  blue  eyes  of  Julie  Lannes  float 
before  him,  and  it  pleased  him  too  to  think  that  he  was 
a  minute  part  in  the  huge  event  now  shaking  the 
world. 

A  sudden  white  light  blazed  through  the  snow,  and 
then  was  gone,  like  a  flash  of  lightning. 

"German  searchlight  seeking  us  out,"  said  Colton. 

"I  wonder  what  they  want,"  said  John.  "They 
can't  be  thinking'  of  a  rush  on  such  a  night  as  this." 

18 


THE  TRENCH 

"Don't  know,  but  must  be  on  guard.  Better  re 
turn  to  your  station  and  warn  everybody  as  you  go 
along.  You  can  use  your  torch,  but  hold  it  low." 

As  John  walked  back  he  saw  by  the  light  of  his 
little  electric  torch  men  sound  asleep  on  the  narrow 
shelves  they  had  dug  in  the  side  of  the  trench,  their 
feet  and  often  a  shoulder  covered  with  the  drifting 
snow.  Strange  homes  were  these  fitted  up  with  the 
warriors'  arms  and  clothes,  and  now  and  then  with 
some  pathetic  little  gift  from  home. 

He  met  other  men  on  guard  like  himself  walking 
up  and  down  the  trench  and  also  carrying  similar 
torches.  He  found  Carstairs  and  Wharton  still  awake, 
and  occupied  as  they  were  when  he  had  left  them. 

"What  was  it,  Scott?"  asked  Carstairs.  "Has  the 
British  army  taken  Berlin?" 

"No,  nor  has  the  German  army  taken  London." 

"Good  old  London!  I'd  like  to  drop  down  on  it 
for  a  while  just  now." 

"They  say  that  at  night  it's  as  black  as  this  trench. 
Zeppelins!" 

"I  could  find  my  way  around  it  in  the  dark.  I'd 
go  to  the  Ritz  or  the  Carlton  and  order  the  finest 
dinner  for  three  that  the  most  experienced  chef  ever 
heard  of.  You  don't  know  how  good  a  dinner  I 
can  give — if  I  only  have  the  money.  I  invite  you 
both  to  become  my  guests  in  London  as  soon  as  this 
war  is  over  and  share  my  gustatory  triumph." 

"I  accept,"  said  John. 

"And  I  too,"  said  Wharton,  "though  we  may  have 
to  send  to  Berlin  for  our  captive  host." 

19 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"Never  fear,"  said  Carstairs.  "I  wasn't  born  to  be 
taken.  What  did  Captain  Colton  want  with  you, 
Scott,  if  it's  no  great  military  or  state  secret?" 

"To  see  Fernand  Weber,  the  Alsatian,  whom  you 
must  remember." 

"Of  course  we  recall  him!  Didn't  we  take  that 
dive  in  the  river  together?  But  he's  an  elusive  chap, 
regular  will-o'-the-wisp,  messenger  and  spy  of  ours, 
and  other  things  too,  I  suppose." 

"He's  done  me  some  good  turns,"  said  John. 
"Been  pretty  handy  several  times  when  I  needed  a 
handy  man  most.  He  brought  news  that  Mademoiselle 
Julie  Lannes  and  her  servants,  the  Picards,  father  and 
daughter,  are  on  their  way  to  or  are  at  Chastel,  a  little 
village  not  far  from  here,  where  the  French  have  es 
tablished  a  huge  hospital  for  the  wounded.  She  left 
Paris  in  obedience  to  a  letter  from  her  brother,  and 
we  are  to  tell  Philip  if  we  should  happen  to  see  him." 

"Pretty  girl!    Deucedly  pretty!"  said  Carstairs. 

"I  don't  think  the  somewhat  petty  adjective  'pretty* 
is  at  all  adequate,"  said  Jo'in  with  dignity. 

"Maybe  not,"  said  Carstairs,  noticing  the  earnest 
tone  in  his  comrade's  voice.  "She's  bound  to  become 
a  splendid  woman.  Is  Weber  still  with  the  captain?" 

"No,  he's  gone  on  his  mission,  whatever  it  is." 

"A  fine  night  for  travel,"  said  Wharton  sardon 
ically.  "A  raw  wind,  driving  snow,  pitchy  darkness, 
slush  and  everything  objectionable  underfoot.  Yet 
I'd  like  to  be  in  Weber's  place.  A  curse  upon  the 
man  who  invented  life  in  the  trenches!  Of  all  the 
dirty,  foul,  squalid  monotony  it  is  this!" 

20 


THE  TRENCH 

"You'll  have  to  curse  war  first,"  said  John.  "War 
made  the  trench." 

"Here  comes  a  man  with  an  electric  torch,"  said 
Carstairs.  "Something  is  going  to  happen  in  our 
happy  lives." 

They  saw  the  faint  glimmer  of  the  torch  held  low, 
and  an  orderly  arrived  with  a  message  from  Captain 
Colton,  commanding  them  to  wake  everybody  and  to 
stand  to  their  arms.  Then  the  orderly  passed  quickly 
on  with  similar  orders  for  others. 

"Old  Never  Sleep,"  said  Carstairs,  referring  to 
Colton,  "thinks  we  get  too  much  rest.  Why  couldn't 
he  let  us  tuck  ourselves  away  in  our  mud  on  a  night 
like  this?" 

"I  fancy  it's  not  restlessness,"  said  John.  "The 
order  doubtless  comes  from  a  further  and  higher 
source.  Good  old  Papa  Vaugirard  is  not  more  than 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  away." 

"I  hear  they  had  to  enlarge  the  trench  for  him," 
grumbled  Carstairs.  "He's  always  bound  to  keep  us 
stirring." 

"But  he  watches  over  us  like  a  father.  They  say 
his  troops  are  in  the  best  condition  of  all." 

The  three  young  men  traveled  about  the  vast  bur 
row  along  the  main  trenches,  the  side  trenches  and 
those  connecting.  The  order  to  be  on  guard  was 
given  everywhere,  and  the  men  dragged  themselves 
from  their  sodden  beds.  Then  they  took  their  rifles 
and  were  ready.  But  it  was  dark  save  for  the  glimmer 
of  the  little  pocket  electrics. 

The  task  finished,  the  three  returned  to  their  usual 

21 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

position.  John  did  not  know  what  to  expect.  It 
might  be  a  device  of  Papa  Vaugirard  to  drag  them 
out  of  a  dangerous  lethargy,  but  he  did  not  think  so. 
A  kind  heart  dwelled  in  the  body  of  the  huge  gen 
eral,  and  he  would  not  try  them  needlessly  on  a  wild 
and  sullen  night.  But  whatever  the  emergency  might 
be  the  men  were  ready  and  on  the  right  of  the 
Strangers  was  that  Paris  regiment  under  Bougain 
ville.  What  a  wonderful  man  Bougainville  had 
proved  himself  to  be !  Fiery  and  yet  discreet,  able 
to  read  the  mind  of  the  enemy,  liked  by  his  men 
whom  nevertheless  he  led  where  the  danger  was 
greatest.  John  was  glad  that  the  Paris  regiment  lay  so 
close. 

"Nothing  is  going  to  happen,"  said  Carstairs. 
"Why  can't  I  lay  me  down  on  my  little  muddy  shelf 
and  go  to  sleep?  Nobody  would  send  a  dog  out  on 
such  a  night !" 

"Man  will  often  go  where  a  dog  won't,"  said  Whar 
ton,  sententiously. 

"And  the  night  is  growing  worse,"  continued  Car- 
stairs.  "Hear  that  wind  howl!  Why,  it's  driving 
the  snow  before  it  in  sheets!  The  trenches  won't 
dry  out  in  a  week!" 

"You  might  be  worth  hearing  if  you'd  only  quit 
talking  and  say  something,  Carstairs,"  said  Wharton. 

"If  you  obeyed  that  rule,  Wharton,  you'd  be  known 
as  the  dumb  man." 

John  stood  up  straight  and  looked  over  the  trench 
toward  the  German  lines,  where  he  saw  nothing.  The 
night  filled  with  so  much  driving  snow  had  become  a 

22 


THE  TRENCH 

kind  of  white  gloom,  less  penetrable  than  the  dark 
ness. 

Only  that  shifting  white  wall  met  his  gaze,  and 
listen  as  he  would,  he  could  hear  nothing.  The  feel 
ing  of  something  sinister  and  uncanny,  something 
vast  and  mighty  returned.  Man  had  made  war  for 
ages,  but  never  before  on  so  huge  a  scale. 

"Well,  Sister  Anna,  otherwise  John  Scott,  make 
your  report,"  said  Carstairs  lightly.  "What  do  you 
see?" 

"Only  a  veil  of  snow  so  thick  that  my  eyes  can't 
penetrate  it." 

"And  that's  all  you  will  see.  Papa  Vaugirard  is 
a  good  man  and  he  cares  for  his  many  children,  but 
he's  making  a  mistake  tonight." 

"I  think  not,"  said  John,  dropping  suddenly  back 
into  the  trench.  A  blinding  white  glare,  cutting 
through  the  gloom  of  the  snow,  had  dazzled  him  for 
a  moment. 

"The  searchlight  again!"  exclaimed  Wharton. 

"And  it  means  something,"  said  John. 

The  blaze,  whiter  and  more  intense  than  usual, 
played  for  a  few  minutes  over  the  French  trenches, 
sweeping  to  right  and  left  and  back  again  and  then 
dying  away  at  a  far  distant  point.  After  it  came 
the  same  white  gloom  and  deep  silence. 

"Just  a  way  of  greeting,"  said  Carstairs. 

"I  think  not,"  said  John.  "Papa  Vaugirard  makes 
few  mistakes.  To  my  mind  the  intensity  of  the 
silence  is  sinister.  Often  we  hear  the  Germans  sing 
ing  in  their  trenches,  but  now  we  hear  nothing. 

23 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

Another  half -hour  of  the  long  and  trying  waiting 
followed.  Then  the  white  light  flared  again  for  a 
moment,  and  powerful  lights  behind  the  French  lines 
flared  back,  but  did  not  go  out.  The  great  beams, 
shooting  through  the  white  gloom,  disclosed  masses 
of  men  in  gray  uniforms  and  spiked  helmets  rushing 
forward. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   YOUNG  AUSTRIAN 

IT  seemed  to  John  that  the  heavy  German  masses 
were  almost  upon  them,  when  they  were  re 
vealed  in  the  glare  of  the  searchlights,  sweep 
ing  forward  in  solid  masses,  and  uttering  a  tremendous 
hurrah.  But  the  French  lights  continued  to  throw 
an  intense  vivid  white  blaze  over  the  advancing  col 
umns,  broad  German  faces  and  stalwart  German 
figures  standing  out  vividly.  Officers,  reckless  of 
death,  waving  their  swords  and  shouting  the  word 
of  command,  led  them  on. 

The  French  field  guns  behind  their  trenches  opened, 
sending  showers  of  missiles  over  their  heads  and 
into  the  charging  ranks,  and  the  trenches  themselves 
blazed  with  the  fire  of  the  rifles. 

"A  surprise  that  isn't  a  surprise?"  shouted  Car- 
stairs.  "They  thought  to  catch  us  napping  in  the 
night  and  the  snow!" 

The  battle  spread  with  astonishing  rapidity  over 
a  front  of  more  than  a  mile,  and  in  the  driving  snow 
and  white  gloom  it  assumed  a  frightful  character. 
The  German  guns  fired  for  a  little  while  over  their 
troops  at  the  French  artillery  beyond,  but  soon  ceased 
lest  they  pour  shells  into  their  own  men,  and  the 

25 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

heavy  French  batteries  ceased  also,  lest  they,  too,  mow 
down  friend  as  well  as  foe.  But  the  light  machine 
guns  posted  in  the  trenches  kept  up  a  rapid  and  ter 
rible  crackle.  The  front  lines  of  the  Germans  were 
cut  down  again  and  again,  always  to  be  replaced  by 
fresh  men,  who  unflinchingly  exposed  their  bodies  to 
the  deadly  hail. 

"The  massed  attack !"  exclaimed  Wharton.  "What 
courage!  Nobody  was  ever  more  willing  to  die  for 
victory  than  these  Germans!" 

Even  in  the  moment  of  danger  and  utmost  excite 
ment  he  could  not  refuse  tribute  to  the  enemy. 
Nevertheless  he  snatched  up  a  rifle  and  was  firing 
as  fast  as  he  could  into  the  gray  ranks.  John  and 
Carstairs  were  doing  the  same  and  the  trench  held 
by  the  Strangers  was  a  continuous  red  blaze.  There 
was  so  much  fire  and  smoke  and  so  much  whirling 
snow  that  John  could  not  see  clearly.  He  was  a 
prey  to  illusions.  Now  the  Germans  were  apparently 
at  the  very  edge  of  the  trench,  and  then  they  were 
further  away  than  he  had  first  seen  them.  The  white 
gloom  was  shot  with  a  red  haze,  and  the  shouts  of 
soldiers,  the  commands  of  officers  and  groans  of 
wounded  were  mingled  in  a  terrible  turmoil  of  sound. 
But  John  knew  that  the  Germans  would  be  driven 
back.  Only  surprise  could  have  enabled  them  to  win, 
and  the  vigilance  of  the  French  scouts  had  put  their 
commanders  on  guard. 

Captain  Colton  walked  up  and  down  the  trench, 
his  face  ghastly  white,  although  it  was  the  flare  of 
the  searchlight  and  not  any  retreat  of  the  blood  that 

26 


THE  YOUNG  AUSTRIAN 

made  it  so.  Now  and  then  under  the  frightful  crash 
of  the  rifles  and  machine  guns  he  addressed  brief 
words  of  warning  and  encouragement  to  his  men: 

"Don't  raise  your  heads  too  high!  Keep  cool! 
Aim  at  something!  Here  they  come  again!  Fire 
low !" 

All  of  John's  pulses  were  throbbing  hard  with 
excitement.  He  wished  the  Germans  would  go  back, 
and  his  wish  was  prompted — less  by  the  desire  of 
victory  than  the  sickening  of  his  soul  at  so  much 
slaughter.  Why  would  their  leaders  continue  to  hurl 
these  simple  and  honest  peasants  upon  that  invincible 
line  of  rifles  and  machine  guns?  The  dead  and 
wounded  were  piling  up  fast  in  the  driving  snow,  but 
the  willing  servants  of  an  emperor  came  on  as  steadily 
as  ever  to  be  killed.  So  much  slaughter  for  so  little 
purpose !  The  height  of  battle,  excitement  and  danger, 
could  not  keep  him  from  thinking  of  it. 

Occasionally  a  man  fell  in  the  trench  and  lay  in 
the  mud  and  snow,  but  the  others  never  ceased  for 
a  moment  to  send  bullets  into  the  gray  masses  which 
fell  back  only  to  come  on  again.  Nothing  but  modern 
weapons,  machine  guns  from  which  missiles  fairly 
flowed  in  an  unending  stream,  and  rifles  which  a 
man  fired  as  fast  as  he  could  pull  the  trigger  could 
check  them.  "Why  don't  they  stop !  Why  don't  they 
stop !"  John  was  shouting  to  himself  through  burned 
lips,  and  again  he  shuddered  with  sick  horror,  when 
he  saw  a  whole  line  of  men  blown  away,  as  if  they 
had  been  grain  swept  by  a  tornado. 

Once  they  came  to  the  very  edge  of  the  trench 
27 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

to  be  slain  there,  and  the  body  of  a  German  fell  in 
at  John's  very  feet.  He  never  knew  how  many  times 
they  charged,  but  human  flesh  and  blood  must  yield, 
in  the  end,  before  unyielding  steel,  and  at  last 
through  the  crash  and  confusion  the  notes  of  trum 
pets  sounded.  Then  the  German  masses  melted  away 
and  the  heavy  white  gloom  once  more  enveloped  the 
ground  before  the  trenches  from  which  came  faint 
cries.  The  wounded  lay  thickly  there  with  the  dead, 
but  neither  side  dared  to  go  for  them.  An  upright 
human  figure  would  draw  at  once  a  hail  of  bullets. 

Several  machine  guns  still  purred  and  crackled, 
but  no  reply  came.  Presently  they,  too,  ceased,  and 
the  silence  in  front  was  complete,  save  for  the  faint 
groans  and  the  swish  of  the  drifting  snow.  John 
shivered,  and  it  was  not  with  cold.  His  feeling  of 
horror  was  increasing.  Many  men  had  been  killed 
and  as  many  maimed,  and  he  was  sure  that  all  of 
them  had  fallen  for  nothing. 

"It's  a  victory,"  said  Carstairs,  "isolated  and  de 
tached,  but  a  victory  nevertheless." 

"So  it  is,"  said  John,  "but  it's  just  a  little  segment 
on  a  vast  curving  line  of  four  hundred  miles.  Maybe 
the  Germans  have  taken  a  trench  somewhere  else." 

"And  maybe  we  have,  at  yet  another  point.  This 
isn't  much  like  the  war  we've  read  about,  is  it,  Scott? 
A  great  battlefield,  vast  batteries  blazing,  long  lines 
of  infantry  in  brilliant  uniforms  advancing,  twenty 
thousand  cavalry  charging  at  the  gallop  the  earth 
reeling  under  the  hoofs  of  their  horses!" 

"No,  it's  just  murder  in  the  dark." 
28 


Once  they  came  to  the  very  edge  of  the  trench  to 
be  slain  there  " 


THE  YOUNG  AUSTRIAN 

"But  a  black  night  would  oppress  me  less  than  the 
ghastly  whitish  glare  of  the  snow.  I  can't  see  a 
thing  out  there,  Scott,  but  those  low  sounds  I  hear 
appall  me." 

The  wind  and  the  fall  of  snow  alike  were  in 
creasing  in  violence.  The  great  flakes  poured  in  a 
feathery  storm  into  the  trench,  and,  before  them, 
all  things  were  hidden.  John  knew,  too,  that  it  was 
covering  the  many  dead  in  their  front  with  a  blanket 
of  white  and  that  the  wounded  who  were  unable  to 
crawl  back  would  probably  lie  frozen  beneath  it  in 
the  morning.  Once  more  that  shiver  of  horror  and 
utter  repulsion  seized  him.  Despite  himself,  he  could 
not  control  it,  and  he  merely  remained  quiet  until  his 
nerves  became  steady  again. 

But  a  low  moaning  just  beyond  the  trench  held  his 
attention.  It  did  not  seem  to  him  that  it  was  more 
than  a  dozen  feet  away,  and  he  felt  a  great  sympathy 
and  pity.  He  did  not  doubt  that  some  German  boy 
hurt  terribly  lay  almost  within  reach  of  his  arm.  He 
moved  once  in  order  that  he  might  not  hear  the 
dreadful  sound,  but  an  irresistible  attraction  drew 
him  back.  Then  he  heard  it  more  plainly,  but  the 
thick  pouring  snow  covered  all  things. 

"Carstairs,"  he  said,  "I'm  going  to  get  a  wounded 
man  out  there.  I  just  can't  stand  it  any  longer." 

"Don't  be  foolish.  They  may  send  a  volley  at 
any  time  through  the  snow,  and  one  of  their  bullets 
is  likely  to  get  you." 

"I'll  chance  it." 

"It's  against  orders." 

29 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"I'm  going  anyhow.  Maybe  I've  suddenly  grown 
squeamish,  but  I  mean  to  save  that  wounded  German 
from  freezing  to  death." 

"Stop,  Scott!  You  mustn't  risk  your  life  this  way. 
I'll  report  you  to  Captain  Coltonl" 

But  it  was  too  late.  John  had  climbed  up  the  side 
of  the  trench,  and,  standing  in  the  deep  snow,  was 
feeling  about  for  the  one  who  groaned.  Guided  by 
the  sound  his  hands  soon  touched  a  human  body. 

The  fallen  man  was  lying  on  his  side  and  he  was 
already  half  buried  in  the  snow.  John  ran  his  hand 
along  his  arm  and  shoulder,  and  felt  cold  thick  blood, 
clotting  his  sleeve.  But  he  was  yet  alive,  because 
he  groaned  again,  and  John  believed  from  the  quality 
of  his  voice  that  he  was  very  young.  The  hurt 
was  in  the  shoulder  and  the  loss  of  blood  had  been 
great. 

He  knelt  beside  the  wounded  lad  and  spoke  to  him  in 
English  and  French,  and  in  German  that  he  had  learned 
recently.  A  faint  reply  came;  but  it  was  too  low  for 
him  to  understand.  Then  he  knelt  in  the  snow  beside 
him  and  was  just  barely  able  to  see  that  he  had  a  blond 
youth  younger  than  himself.  Shots  came  from  the 
German  line  as  he  knelt  there,  but  they  were  merely 
random  bullets  whistling  through  the  snowy  gloom. 
He  was  made  of  tenacious  material,  and  the  danger 
from  the  flying  bullets  merely  confirmed  him  in  his 
purpose.  Moreover,  he  could  not  bear  to  return,  and 
listen  to  those  groans  so  near  him.  He  grasped  the 
young  German  under  the  shoulders  and  dragged  him 
to  the  edge  of  the  trench.  Then  he  called  softly: 

30 


THE  YOUNG  AUSTRIAN 

"Carstairs,  Wharton!  I've  got  him!  Help  me 
down!" 

Carstairs  and  Wharton  appeared  and  Carstairs  said : 

"Well,  you  light-headed  Yankee,  you  have  come 
back!" 

"Yes,  and  I've  brought  with  me  what  I  went  after. 
Help  me  down  with  him.  Easy  there  now!  He's 
hit  hard  in  the  shoulder!" 

The  two  lifted  him  into  the  trench  and  John  slid 
after  him,  just  as  a  half-dozen  random  shots  whistled 
over  his  head.  There  they  drew  the  rescued  youth 
into  one  of  the  alcoves  dug  in  the  wall  and  Carstairs 
flashed  his  electric  torch  on  his  face,  revealing 
features  boyish,  delicate,  and  white  as  death  now. 
His  gray  uniform  was  of  richer  material  than  usual 
and  an  iron  cross  was  pinned  upon  his  breast. 

"A  brave  lad  as  the  cross  shows,"  said  Carstairs, 
"and  I  should  judge  too  from  his  appearance  that 
he's  of  high  rank.  Maybe  he's  a  prince  or  the  son 
of  a  prince.  You've  already  had  adventures  with  two 
of  them." 

"One  of  whom  I  liked." 

"He  looks  like  a  good  fellow,"  said  Wharton.  "I'm 
glad  you  saved  him.  Rub  his  hands  while  I  give 
him  a  taste  of  this." 

John  and  Carstairs  rubbed  his  palms  until  he  opened 
his  eyes,  when  Wharton  put  a  flask  to  his  lips  and 
made  him  drink.  He  groaned  again  and  tried  to  sit 
up. 

"Just  you  lie  still,  Herr  Katzenellenbogen,"  said 
Wharton.  "You're  in  the  hands  of  your  friends,  the 

31 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

enemy,  but  we're  saving  your  life  or  rather  it's  been 
done  already  by  the  man  on  your  left;  name,  John 
Scott;  nationality,  American;  service,  French." 

Captain  Colton  appeared  and  threw  a  white  light 
with  his  own  electric  torch  upon  the  little  group. 

"What  have  you  there?"  he  asked. 

"Young  German  who  lay  groaning  too  near  the 
edge  of  our  trench,"  replied  Carstairs.  "Scott  couldn't 
stand  it,  so  he  went  out  and  brought  him  in.  Fancy 
his  name  is  Katzenellenbogen,  Kaiserslautern,  Hohen- 
friedberg,  or  something  else  short  and  simple." 

Captain  Colton  permitted  himself  a  grim  smile. 

"Your  act  of  mercy,  Scott,  does  honor  to  you," 
he  said,  "though  it's  no  part  of  your  business  to  get 
yourself  killed  helping  a  wounded  enemy.  Bring 
him  round,  then  send  him  to  hospital  in  rear." 

He  walked  on,  continuing  his  inspection  of  the 
Strangers  although  sure  that  no  other  attack  would 
be  made  that  night,  and  the  three  young  men  applied 
themselves  with  renewed  energy  to  the  revival  of 
their  injured  captive.  Wharton  cut  the  uniform  away 
from  his  shoulder  and,  after  announcing  that  the 
bullet  had  gone  entirely  through,  bound  up  the  two 
wounds  with  considerable  skill.  Then  he  gave  him 
another  but  small  drink  out  of  the  flask  and,  as 
they  saw  the  color  come  back  into  his  face,  they  felt 
all  the  pleasure  of  a  surgeon  when  he  sees  his  efforts 
succeed.  The  boy  glanced  at  his  shoulder,  and  then 
gave  the  three  a  grateful  look. 

"You're  all  right,"  said  Carstairs  cheerfully  in  Eng 
lish.  "You're  guest  or  prisoner,  whichever  you  choose 

32 


THE  YOUNG  AUSTRIAN 

to  call  it  and  we  three  are  your  hosts  or  captors. 
My  name  is  Carstairs  and  these  two  assistants  of  mine 
are  Wharton  and  Scott,  distant  cousins,  that  is  to 
say,  Yankees.  It  was  Scott  who  saved  you." 

The  boy  smiled  faintly.  He  was  in  truth  handsome 
with  a  delicate  fairness  one  did  not  see  often  among 
the  Germans,  who  were  generally  cast  in  a  sterner 
mold. 

"And  I  am  Leopold  Kratzek,"  he  replied  in  good 
English. 

"Kratzek,"  said  John.  "Ah,  you're  an  Austrian. 
Now  I  remember  there's  an  Austrian  field-marshal 
of  that  name." 

"He  is  my  father  but  he  is  in  the  East.  My  regi 
ment  was  sent  with  an  Austrian  corp  to  the  west 
ern  front.  It  seems  that  I  am  in  great  luck.  My 
wound  is  not  mortal,  but  I  should  certainly  have 
frozen  to  death  out  there  if  one  of  you  had  not  come 
for  me." 

"Scott  went,  of  course,"  said  Carstairs.  "He's  an 
American  and  naturally  a  tuft-hunter.  He's  been 
making  a  long  list  of  princely  acquaintances  recently, 
and  he  was  bound  to  bring  in  the  son  of  a  field- 
marshal  and  make  a  friend  of  him,  too." 

"Shut  up,  Carstairs,"  said  John.  "You  talk  this 
way  to  hide  your  own  imperfections.  You  know  that 
at  heart  every  Englishman  is  a  snob." 

"Snobby  is  as  snobby  does,"  laughed  Carstairs. 
"Now,  Kratzek,  He  back  again  and  we'll  spread  these 
blankets  over  you." 

The  young  Austrian  smiled. 
33 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"I've  fallen  into  very  good  company,"  he  said. 

John,  whose  character  was  serious,  felt  some  sad 
ness  as  he  looked  at  him.  He  remembered  those  gay 
Viennese  who  had  set  the  torch  of  the  great  war, 
and  how  merry  they  were  over  it  with  their  visions 
of  quick  victory  and  glory.  Poor,  gay,  likable,  light 
headed  Austrians !  Brave  but  short-sighted,  they  were 
likely  to  suffer  more  than  any  other  nation!  The 
fair,  handsome  youth,  wrapped  now  in  the  blankets, 
seemed  to  him  to  typify  all  the  Austrian  qualities. 

"You'd  better  go  to  sleep  if  you  can,"  said  John. 
"We  can't  move  you  yet,  but  in  time  you'll  reach  a 
good  hospital  of  ours  in  the  rear." 

"I'll  obey  you,"  said  Kratzek,  in  the  most  tractable 
manner,  and  closing  his  eyes  he  soon  fell  asleep 
despite  his  wound. 

"Now,  having  caught  your  Austrian,  what  are 
you  going  to  do  with  him?"  said  Carstairs  to 
John. 

"Nothing  for  the  present,  but  later  on  I'll  have 
him  taken  down  one  of  the  transverse  trenches  to  a 
hospital.  Maybe  you  think  I'm  foolish,  Carstairs,  but 
I've  an  idea  that  I've  made  a  friend,  though  I  didn't 
have  that  purpose  in  view  when  I  went  out  for  him. 
I  never  think  that  anybody  hates  me  unless  he  proves 
it.  People  as  a  rule  don't  take  the  time  and  trouble 
to  hate  and  plot." 

"You're  right,  Scott.  Hating  is  a  terribly  tiresome 
business,  and  I  notice  that  you're  by  nature  friendly." 

"Which  may  be  because  I'm  American." 

"Oh,  well,  we  English  are  friendly,  too." 
34 


THE  YOUNG  AUSTRIAN 

"But  seldom  polite,  although  I  think  you're  unaware 
of  the  latter  fact." 

"If  a  man  doesn't  know  he's  impolite,  then  he  isn't. 
It's  the  intention  that  counts." 

"We'll  let  it  go,  but  I've  a  strong  premonition  that 
this  Austrian  boy  is  going  to  do  me  a  great  favor 
some  day." 

"I  have  premonitions,  too,  often,  but  they're  in 
variably  wrong.  Now,  I  see  an  orderly  coming.  I 
hope  he  hasn't  a  message  from  Captain  Colton  for  us 
to  prowl  around  in  the  snow  somewhere." 

Happily,  the  message  released  them  from  further 
duty  that  night  and  bade  them  seek  rest.  Young 
Kratzek  was  lying  in  John's  bed  and  was  sleeping. 
He  looked  so  young  and  so  pale  that  the  heart  of 
his  captor  and  rescuer  was  moved  to  pity.  Light 
headed  the  Austrians  might  be,  but  no  one  could  deny 
them  valor. 

Just  beyond  the  niche  was  another  and  smaller  one, 
seldom  used,  owing  to  its  extreme  narrowness,  but 
John  decided  that  he  could  sleep  in  it.  At  any  rate, 
if  he  fell  off  he  would  land  in  six  or  eight  inches 
of  soft  snow. 

The  flakes  were  still  coming  down  heavily.  It 
was  the  biggest  snow  that  he  had  yet  seen  in  Europe 
and  he  believed  that  it  would  fall  all  night.  They 
had  plenty  of  blankets  and  spreading  two  on  the  shelf 
which  was  no  broader  than  himself  he  lay  down 
and  put  two  more  over  him. 

He  was  in  a  pleasant  mental  glow,  because  he  had 
saved  young  Kratzek,  forgetting  the  rest  who  lay 

35 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

out  there  under  the  snow.  All  his  instincts  were 
for  mercy  and  gentleness,  but  like  others,  he  was 
being  hardened  by  war,  or  at  least  he  was  made  for 
getful.  Resting  in  the  earthen  side  of  a  trench,  the 
horrors  of  the  battle  passed  out  of  his  mind.  The 
white  gloom  was  so  heavy  there  that  he  could  not 
see  the  other  wall  four  feet  away,  and  the  falling 
flakes  almost  grazed  his  face  as  they  passed,  but  he 
had  a  marvelous  sense  of  comfort  and  ease,  even  of 
luxury.  The  caveman  had  fared  no  better,  often 
worse,  because  he  had  no  blankets,  and  John  drew  a 
deep  sigh  of  content. 

A  gun  thundered  somewhere  far  back  in  the  German 
lines,  and  a  gun  also  far  back  in  the  French  lines  thun 
dered  in  reply.  Then  came  a  random  and  scattering 
fire  of  rifles  through  the  falling  snow  from  both 
sides,  but  John  was  not  disturbed  in  the  least  by  these 
reports.  He  felt  as  safe  in  his  narrow  trench  as 
if  he  had  been  a  hundred  miles  from  the  field  of 
battle,  and  compared,  with  the  driving  storm  outside, 
his  six  feet  by  one  of  an  earthen  bed  was  all  he 
wished.  The  pleasant  warmth  from  the  blankets 
flowed  through  his  veins,  and  his  limbs  and  senses 
relaxed.  There  was  firing  again,  faint  and  from  a 
distant  point,  but  it  was  soothing  now  like  the  tune 
played  on  the  little  mouth-organ  earlier  in  the  even 
ing,  and  he  fell  into  a  deep  and  peaceful  slumber. 

When  he  awoke  in  the  morning  the  sun  was  shin 
ing  in  the  trench,  the  bottom  of  which  was  covered 
with  eight  inches  of  snow,  now  slushy  on  top  from 
the  red  beams.  John  felt  himself  restored  and  strong, 

36 


THE  YOUNG  AUSTRIAN 

and  he  stepped  down  into  the  snow  and  slush,  having 
first  tucked  his  blue-gray  trousers  into  his  high  boots. 
He  was  lucky  in  the  possession  of  a  fine  pair  of 
boots  that  would  turn  the  last  drop  of  water,  and  in 
such  times  as  these  they  were  worth  more  than  gold. 

A  shell  screaming  high  overhead  was  his  morning 
salutation,  and  then  came  other  shells,  desultory  but 
noisy.  John  paid  no  more  attention  to  them  than 
if  they  had  been  distant  bees  buzzing.  He  looked  at 
his  young  prisoner,  Kratzek,  and  found  that  he  was 
still  sleeping,  with  a  healthy  color  in  his  face.  John 
was  impressed  anew  by  his  youth.  "Why  do  they 
let  such  babies  come  to  the  war?"  he  asked  himself, 
but  he  added,  "They're  brave  babies,  though." 

"Well,  he's  pulling  along  all  right,"  said  Carstairs. 
"I  was  up  before  you  and  I  learned  that  Captain  Col- 
ton  sent  a  surgeon  in  the  night  to  examine  him. 
Wharton  had  done  a  good  job  with  his  bandages,  he 
admitted,  but  he  cleaned  and  dressed  the  wound  and 
said  the  patient  was  in  such  a  healthy  condition  that 
he  would  be  entirely  well  again  in  a  short  time.  He's 
only  a  young  boy,  isn't  he,  Scott?" 

"Yes,  I  suppose  that's  why  I  have  such  a  fatherly 
feeling  for  him." 

"That,  or  because  you  brought  him  in  from  sure 
death.  We're  always  attached  to  anyone  we  save." 

"I  mean  to  have  him  exchanged  and  sent  back  to 
his  mother  in  Austria.  He's  bound  to  have  a  mother 
there  and  she'll  thank  me  though  she  may  never 
see  me.  I  wish  these  pleasant  Austrians  had  more 
sense." 

37 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

Kratzek  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  blankly  at  the 
two  young  men.  He  strove  to  rise,  but  fell  back 
with  a  low  sigh  of  pain.  Then  he  closed  his  eyes, 
but  John  saw  the  muscles  of  his  face  working. 

"He's  trying  to  remember,"  whispered  Carstairs. 

Memory  came  back  to  Kratzek  in  a  few  moments, 
and  he  opened  his  eyes  again. 

"I  was  saved  by  somebody  last  night  and  I  think 
it  was  you,"  he  said,  looking  at  John.  "I  want  to 
say  to  you  that  I  am  very  grateful.  I  do  not  wish 
to  appear  boastful,  but  I  have  relatives  in  both  the 
Austrian  and  German  armies  who  are  very  powerful 
— ours  is  both  a  North  German  and  South  German 
house,  and  East  German,  too." 

"That  is,  it's  wohlgeboren  and  hochwohlgeboren," 
said  Wharton,  who  appeared  at  that  moment. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Austrian  boy,  smiling  faintly.  "I 
am  highborn  and  very  highborn,  although  it's  not 
my  fault.  You,  I  take  it,  by  your  accent,  are  Ameri 
can  and  these  things,  of  course,  don't  count  with  you." 

"I  don't  know,  they  seem  to  count  pretty  heavily 
with  some  of  our  women,  if  you  can  judge  by  the 
newspapers." 

"Who  are  these  men  of  whom  you  speak?"  asked 
John. 

"The  chief  is  Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg,  who  is  not 
far  from  your  front.  I  betray  no  military  secret  when 
I  say  that.  I  shall  send  word  to  him  that  you  have 
saved  my  life,  and,  if  you  should  fall  a  prisoner  into 
German  hands,  he  will  do  as  much  for  you  as  you 
have  done  for  me." 

38 


THE  YOUNG  AUSTRIAN 

The  Austrian  boy  did  not  notice  the  quick  glances 
exchanged  by  the  three,  and  he  went  on : 

"Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg  is  a  general  of  ability, 
and  owing  to  that  and  his  very  high  birth,  he  has 
great  influence  with  both  emperors.  You  have  noth 
ing  to  fear  from  our  brave  Germans  if  you  should 
fall  into  their  hands,  but  I  beg  you  in  any  event,  to 
get  word  to  the  prince  and  to  give  him  my  name." 

"I'll  do  it,"  replied  John,  but  he  soothed  his  con 
science  by  telling  himself  that  it  was  a  white  lie.  If 
he  should  be  captured  for  the  third  time  Prince  Karl 
of  Auersperg  was  the  last  one  whom  he  wanted  to 
know  of  it.  Neither  was  he  pleased  to  hear  that  this 
medieval  baron  was  again  so  near,  although  he  did 
not  realize  why  until  later. 

"We've  talked  enough  now,"  said  John,  "and  I'll 
see  that  food  is  sent  you.  Then  it's  off  with  you 
to  the  hospital.  It's  a  French  hospital,  but  they'll 
treat  a  German  shoulder  just  as  they  would  one  of 
their  own." 

The  life  in  the  vast  honeycomb  of  trenches  was 
awakening  fast.  Two  million  men  perhaps,  devoted 
to  the  task  of  killing  one  another,  crept  from  their 
burrows  and  stood  up.  Along  the  whole  line  almost 
of  twenty  score  miles  snow  had  fallen,  but  the  rifles 
and  cannon  were  firing  already,  spasmodic  sharpshoot- 
ing  at  some  points,  and  fierce  little  battles  at  others. 

John  peered  over  the  edge  of  the  trench.  A  man 
was  allowed  to  put  his  head  in  the  German  range  but 
not  his  hand.  So  long  as  he  lived  he  must  preserve  a 
hand  which  could  pull  the  trigger  or  wield  the  bayonet. 

39 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

They  were  not  firing  in  the  immediate  front,  and 
he  had  a  good  view  of  fields  and  low  hills,  deep  in 
snow.  Just  before  him  the  ground  was  leveled,  and 
he  saw  many  raised  places  in  the  snow  there.  He 
knew  that  bodies  lay  beneath,  and  once  more  he  shud 
dered  violently.  But  the  world  was  full  of  beauty 
that  morning.  The  sun  was  a  vast  sheet  of  gold, 
giving  a  luminous  tint  to  the  snow,  and  two  clusters 
of  trees,  covered  to  the  last  bough  and  twig  with  snow, 
were  a  delicate  tracery  of  white,  shot  at  times  by  the 
sun  with  a  pale  yellow  glow  like  that  of  a  rose.  On 
the  horizon  a  faint  misty  smoke,  the  color  of  silver, 
was  rising,  and  he  knew  that  it  came  from  the  cooking 
fires  of  the  Germans. 

It  reminded  him  that  he  was  very  hungry.  Cave 
life  under  fire,  if  it  did  not  kill  a  man,  gave  him  a 
ferocious  appetite,  and  turning  into  one  of  the  trans 
verse  trenches  he  followed  a  stream  of  the  Strangers 
who  were  already  on  the  way  to  their  hotel. 

The  narrow  cut  led  them  nearly  a  mile,  and  then 
they  came  out  in  a  valley  the  edges  of  which  were 
fringed  with  beeches.  But  in  the  wide  space  within 
the  valley  most  of  the  snow  had  been  cleared  away 
and  enormous  automobile  kitchens  stood  giving  forth 
the  pleasant  odors  of  food  and  drink.  At  one  side 
officers  were  already  satisfying  their  hunger  and 
farther  on  men  were  doing  the  same.  They  were 
within  easy  range  of  the  German  guns,  but  it  was 
not  the  habit  of  either  side  to  send  morning  shells 
unless  a  direct  attack  was  to  be  made. 

John  had  no  thought  of  danger.  Youth  was  youth 
40 


THE  YOUNG  AUSTRIAN 

and  one  could  get  hardened  to  anything.  He  had 
been  surprised  more  than  once  in  this  war  to  find 
how  his  spirits  could  go  from  the  depths  to  the  heights 
and  now  they  were  o*  the  best.  He  was  full  of 
life  and  the  world  was  very  beautiful  that  morning. 
It  was  the  fair  land  of  France  again,  but  it  was  under 
a  thick  robe  of  snow,  the  golden  tint  on  the  white, 
as  the  large  yellow  sun  slowly  sailed  clear  of  the  high 
hills  on  their  right. 

General  Vaugirard  stood  near  the  first  of  the 
wagons,  drinking  cup  after  cup  of  hot  steaming  coffee, 
and  devouring  thick  slices  of  bread  and  butter.  He 
wore  a  long  blue  overcoat  over  his  uniform,  and  high 
boots.  But  the  dominant  note  was  given  to  his  ap 
pearance  by  the  thick  white  beard  which  seemed  to 
be  touched  with  a  light  silver  frost.  Under  the  great 
thatch  of  eyebrow  the  keen  little  eyes  twinkled.  He 
made  John  think  of  a  huge,  white  and  inoffensive 
bear. 

The  general's  roving  eye  caught  sight  of  Scott  and 
he  exclaimed : 

"Come  here,  you  young  Yankee!  I  hear  that  you 
distinguished  yourself  last  night  by  saving  the  life 
of  one  of  our  enemies,  thus  enabling  him  perhaps  to 
fight  against  us  once  more." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  General,"  said  John,  "but  I'm 
no  Yankee." 

"What,  denying  your  birthright !  I  never  heard  an 
American  do  that  before!  Everybody  knows  you're 
a  Yankee." 

"Pardon  me,  General,  you  and  all  other  Europeans 

41 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

make  a  mistake  about  the  Yankees.  At  home  the 
people  of  the  Southern  States  generally  apply  it  to 
those  living  in  the  Northern  states,  but  in  the  North 
it  is  carried  still  further  and  is  properly  applied  to 
the  residents  of  the  six  New  England  states.  I  don't 
come  from  one  of  those  states,  and  so  I'm  not  in  a 
real  sense  a  Yankee." 

"What,  sir,  have  I,  a  Frenchman,  to  do  with  your 
local  distinctions?  Yankees  you  all  are  and  Yankee 
you  shall  remain.  It's  a  fine  name,  and  from  what 
I've  seen  in  this  war  you're  great  fighting  men,  worthy 
to  stand  with  Frenchmen." 

"Thank  you  for  the  compliment,  General,"  said 
John,  smiling.  "Hereafter  I  shall  always  remain  a 
Yankee." 

"And  now  do  you  and  your  friends  take  your 
food  there  with  de  Rougemont.  I've  had  my  break 
fast,  and  a  big  and  good  one  it  was.  I'm  going  to 
the  edge  of  the  hill  and  use  my  glasses." 

He  waddled  away,  looking  more  than  ever  an  enor 
mous,  good-natured  bear.  John's  heart,  as  always, 
warmed  to  him.  Truly  he  was  the  father  of  his 
children,  ten  thousand  or  more,  who  fought  around 
him,  and  for  whose  welfare  he  had  a  most  vigilant 
eye  and  mind. 

The  three  joined  a  group  of  the  Strangers,  Cap 
tain  Colton  at  their  head,  and  they  stood  there  together, 
eating  and  drinking,  their  appetites  made  wonderfully 
keen  by  the  sharp  morning  and  a  hard  life  in  the 
open  air.  Bougainville,  the  little  colonel,  came  from 
the  next  valley  and  remained  with  them  awhile.  He 

42 


THE  YOUNG  AUSTRIAN 

was  almost  the  color  of  an  Indian  now,  but  his 
uniform  was  remarkably  trim  and  clean  and  he  bore 
himself  with  dignity.  He  was  distinctly  a  person 
ality  and  John  knew  that  no  one  would  care  to  under 
take  liberties  with  him. 

In  the  long  months  following  the  battle  on  the 
Marne  Bougainville  had  done  great  deeds.  Again 
and  again  he  had  thrown  his  regiment  into  some  weak 
spot  in  the  line  just  at  the  right  moment.  He  seemed, 
like  Napoleon  and  Stonewall  Jackson,  to  have  an  ex 
traordinary,  intuitive  power  of  divining  the  enemy's 
intentions,  and  General  Vaugirard,  to  whose  command 
his  regiment  belonged,  never  hesitated  to  consult  him 
and  often  took  his  advice.  "Ah,  that  child  of  Mont- 
martre!"  he  would  say.  "He  will  go  far,  if  he  does 
not  meet  a  shell  too  soon.  He  keeps  a  hand  of  steel 
on  his  regiment,  there  is  no  discipline  sterner  than 
his,  and  yet  his  men  love  him." 

Bougainville  showed  pleasure  at  seeing  John  again, 
and  gave  him  his  hand  American  fashion. 

"We  both  still  live,"  he  said  briefly. 

"And  hope  for  complete  victory." 

"We  do,"  said  Bougainville,  earnestly,  "but  it  will 
take  all  the  strength  of  the  allied  nations  to  achieve 
it.  Much  has  happened,  Monsieur  Scott,  since  we 
stood  that  day  in  the  lantern  of  Basilique  du  Sacre- 
Coeur  on  the  Butte  Montmartre  and  saw  the  Prussian 
cavalry  riding  toward  Paris." 

"But  what  has  happened  is  much  less  than  that 
which  will  happen  before  this  war  is  over." 

"You  speak  a  great  truth,  Monsieur  Scott.     And 

43 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

now  I  must  go.  Hearing  that  the  Strangers  were 
in  this  valley  I  wished  to  come  and  see  with  my  own 
eyes  that  you  were  alive  and  well.  I  have  seen  and 
I  am  glad." 

He  saluted,  Captain  Colton  and  the  others  saluted 
in  return,  and  then  he  walked  over  the  hill  to  his 
own  "children." 

"An  antique!  An  old  Roman!  Spirit  defying 
death,"  said  Captain  Colton  looking  after  him. 

"He  has  impressed  me  that  way,  too,  sir,"  said 
John.  But  his  mind  quickly  left  Bougainville,  and 
turned  to  the  message  that  Weber  had  brought  the 
night  before.  He  was  glad  that  Julie  Lannes  would 
be  so  near  again,  and  yet  he  was  sorry.  He  had  not 
been  sorry  when  he  first  heard  it,  but  the  apprehen 
sion  had  come  later.  He  tried  to  trace  the  cause, 
and  then  he  remembered  the  name  of  Auersperg,  the 
prince  whom  his  cousin,  the  Austrian  captive,  had  said 
was  near.  He  sought  to  laugh  at  himself  for  his 
fears.  The  mental  connection  was  too  vague,  he  said, 
but  the  relieving  laughter  would  not  come. 

John  hoped  that  a  lucky  chance  might  bring  Lannes, 
and  involuntarily  he  looked  up  at  the  heavens.  But 
they  were  clear  of  aeroplanes.  The  heavy  snow  of 
the  night  before  had  driven  in  the  hosts  of  the  air, 
and  they  had  not  reappeared. 

Then  John  resolved  to  go  to  Chastel  himself.  He 
did  not  know  how  he  would  go  or  what  he  would 
do  when  he  got  there,  but  the  impulse  was  strong  and 
it  remained  with  him. 


CHAPTER  III 
JULIE'S  COMING 

THAT  day,  the  next  night  and  the  next  day 
passed  without  any  event  save  the  usual  des 
ultory  firing  of  cannon  and  rifles.    Many  men 
were  killed  and  more  were  wounded  by  the  sharp 
shooters.     Little  battles  were  fought  at  distant  points 
along  the  lines,  the  Allies  winning  some  while  the 
Germans   were  victorious   in   others,   but   the   result 
was  nothing.     The  deadlock  was  unbroken. 

Meanwhile  the  weather  turned  somewhat  warmer 
and  the  melting  snow  poured  fresh  deluges  of  water 
into  the  trenches.  Most  of  it  was  pumped  out,  but 
it  would  sink  back  into  the  ground  and  return. 
John  again  gave  thanks  for  the  splendid  pair  of  high 
boots  that  he  wore,  and  also  he  often  searched  the 
air  for  Lannes.  But  he  saw  no  sign  of  the  lithe  and 
swift  Arrow  and  his  anxiety  for  Julie  increased 
steadily.  She  must  now  be  at  Chastel,  but  he  had 
not  yet  found  any  excuse  that  would  release  him 
from  the  trenches  and  let  him  go  there. 

He  inquired  for  Weber,  but  no  one  had  seen  or  heard 
of  him  again.  No  doubt  he  was  far  away  on  some 
perilous  mission,  serving  France  on  the  ground  as 
Lannes  served  her  in  the  air. 

45 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

Young  Kratzek  in  the  hospital  was  improving  fast 
and  John  secured  leave  of  absence  long  enough  to 
see  him  once.  He  was  fervent  in  his  gratitude  and 
renewed  his  promises  that  somehow  and  somewhere 
he  would  surely  repay  young  Scott.  News  that  he 
was  alive,  but  a  prisoner,  had  reached  the  German 
lines  and  already  an  exchange  for  him  had  been  ar 
ranged,  the  Germans,  owing  to  his  rank,  being  willing 
to  return  a  French  brigadier  in  his  place.  The  pros 
pect  rilled  him  with  happiness  and  he  talked  much. 
John  noticed  once  more  how  very  young  he  was,  not 
much  more  than  seventeen,  and  with  manners  de 
cidedly  boyish.  He  had  the  utmost  confidence  in  the 
success  of  Germany  and  Austria,  despite  the  check 
at  the  Marne,  and  talked  freely  of  another  advance. 
John  led  him  adroitly  to  his  cousin  of  Auersperg,  of 
whom  he  wished  to  hear  more.  He  soon  discovered 
that  Auersperg  was  a  very  great  prince  to  Kratzek. 

"I  stand  in  some  awe  of  him.  I  need  scarcely  tell 
you  that  Herr  Scott,  my  captor,"  he  said,  "because 
he  represents  so  much.  Ah,  the  history  and  the 
legends  clustering  about  our  house,  that  goes  far  back 
into  the  dim  ages !  The  Auerspergs  were  counts  and 
princes  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire,  and  they  have 
been  grand  dukes.  They  have  decided  the  choice  of 
more  than  one  emperor  at  Frankfort,  and  they  have 
stood  with  the  highest  when  they  were  crowned  at 
Augsburg.  Please  don't  think  I  am  boasting  for 
myself,  Herr  Scott,  it  is  only  for  my  cousin,  the 
august  Prince  Karl,  hochwohlgeboren!" 

"I  understand,"  said  John,  smiling.  "But  I  want 
46 


JULIE'S  COMING 

to  tell  you,  Leopold  Kratzek,  that  I'm  hochwohlge- 
boren  myself." 

"Why,  how  is  that?  You  are  neither  German  nor 
Austrian." 

"No,  I'm  American,  but  I'm  very  highborn  never 
theless.  There  are  a  hundred  millions  of  us  and  all 
of  us  are  very  highborn  not  excepting  our  colored 
people,  many  of  whom  are  descended  from  African 
princes  who  have  a  power  over  their  people  not  ap 
proached  by  either  of  the  kaisers." 

The  boy  smiled. 

"Now,  I  know  you  jest,"  he  said.  "You  have  no 
classes,  but  I've  heard  that  all  of  you  claim  to  be 
kings." 

John  saw  that  he  had  made  no  impression  upon 
him.  Frank,  honest  and  brave,  an  Auersperg  was 
nevertheless  in  the  boy's  mind  an  Auersperg,  some 
thing  superior,  a  product  of  untold  centuries,  a  small 
and  sublimated  group  of  the  human  race  to  which 
nothing  else  could  aspire,  not  even  talent,  learning, 
courage  and  honesty.  To  all  Auerspergs,  Napoleon 
and  Shakespeare  were  mere  men  of  genius,  to  be 
patronized.  John  smiled,  too.  He  did  not  feel  hurt 
at  all.  In  his  turn  he  felt  a  superiority,  a  superiority 
of  perception,  and  a  superiority  in  the  sense  of  pro 
portion. 

"Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg  is  always  resolved 
to  maintain  his  pride  of  blood,  is  he  not?"  he 
asked. 

"He  considers  it  his  duty.  The  head  of  a  house 
that  has  been  princely  for  fifteen  centuries  could  not 

47 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

do  less.     He  could  never  forget  or  forgive  an  insult 
to  his  person." 

"If  he  were  insulted  he  would  hold  that  all  the 
Auerspergs  who  were  now  living  and  all  who  had 
lived  in  the  last  fifteen  hundred  years  were  insulted 
also." 

"Undoubtedly!"  replied  Kratzek,  with  great  em 
phasis. 

"I  merely  wished  to  know,"  said  John,  gravely,  "in 
order  that  I  may  know  how  to  bear  myself  in  case 
I  should  meet  Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg" — he  had 
not  told  that  he  had  met  him  already — "and  now  I'm 
going  to  tell  you  good-by,  Leopold.  I  think  it  likely 
that  I  shall  be  sent  away  on  a  mission  and  before  I 
return  it  is  probable  that  you  will  be  exchanged." 

"Good-by,  Mr.  Scott.  Don't  forget  my  promise. 
If  you  should  ever  fall  into  our  hands  please  try  to 
communicate  with  me." 

John  returned  to  his  trench.  He  had  been  very 
thoughtful  that  day,  and  he  had  evolved  a  plan.  A 
considerable  body  of  wounded  soldiers  were  to  be  sent 
to  Chastel,  and  as  they  must  have  a  guard  he  had 
asked  Captain  Colton  to  use  his  influence  with  Gen 
eral  Vaugirard  and  have  him  appointed  a  member 
of  the  guard. 

Now  he  found  Captain  Colton  sitting  in  his  little 
alcove  smoking  one  of  his  eternal  cigarettes  and  look 
ing  very  contented.  He  took  an  especially  long  puff 
when  he  saw  John  and  looked  at  him  quizzically. 

"Well,  Scott!"  he  said. 

"Well,  sir!"  said  John. 

48 


JULIE'S  COMING 

"General  Vaugirard  thinks  your  desire  to  guard 
wounded,  see  to  their  welfare,  great  credit  to  you." 

"I  thank  him,  sir,  through  you." 

"Approve  of  such  zeal  myself." 

"I  thank  you  in  person." 

"Did  not  tell  him — French  girl,  Mademoiselle  Julie 
Lannes,  also  going  to  Chastel  to  attend  to  wounded. 
Handsome  girl,  wonderfully  handsome  girl,  don't  you 
think  so,  Scott?" 

"I  do,  sir,"  said  John,  reddening. 

"You  and  she — going  to  Chastel  about  same  time. 
Remarkable  coincidence,  but  nothing  in  it,  of  course, 
just  coincidence." 

"It's  not  a  coincidence,  sir.  You've  always  been  a 
friend  to  me,  Captain  Colton,  and  I'm  willing  to  tell 
you  that  I've  sought  this  mission  to  Chastel  because 
Mademoiselle  Julie  Lannes  is  there,  or  is  going  there, 
and  for  no  other  reason  whatever.  I'm  afraid  she's 
in  danger,  and  anyway  I  long  for  a  sight  of  her  face 
as  we  long  for  the  sun  after  a  storm." 

Captain  Colton,  with  his  cigarette  poised  be 
tween  his  thumb  and  forefinger,  looked  John  up  and 
down. 

"Good!"  he  said.  "Frank  statement  of  truth — I 
knew  already.  Nothing  for  you  to  be  ashamed  of. 
If  girl  beautiful  and  noble  as  Mademoiselle  Julie 
Lannes  looked  at  me  as  she  has  looked  at  you  I'd 
break  down  walls  and  run  gantlets  to  reach  her.  Go, 
John,  boy.  Luck  to  you  in  all  the  things  in  which 
you  wish  luck." 

He  held  out  his  hand  and  John  wrung  it.  And  so, 
49 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

the  terse  captain  himself  had  a  soft  heart  which  he 
seldom  showed! 

The  convoy  started  the  next  morning,  John  with 
five  soldiers  in  an  armored  automobile  bringing  up 
the  rear.  There  were  other  men  on  the  flank  and  in 
front,  and  a  captain  commanded.  The  day  was  wintry 
and  gloomy.  Heavy  clouds  obscured  the  sky,  and  the 
slush  was  deep  in  the  roads.  A  desolate  wind  moaned 
through  the  leafless  trees,  and  afar  the  cannon 
grumbled  and  groaned. 

But  neither  the  somber  day  nor  the  melancholy 
convoy  affected  John's  spirits.  Chastel,  a  village  of 
light — light  for  him — would  be  at  the  end  of  his 
journey. 

Despite  mud,  slush  and  snow,  traveling  was  pleas 
ant.  The  automobile  had  made  wonderful  changes. 
One  could  go  almost  anywhere  in  it,  and  its  daring 
drivers  whisked  it  gaily  over  fields,  through  forests 
and  up  hills,  which  in  reality  could  be  called  moun 
tains.  War  had  merely  increased  their  enterprise, 
and  they  took  all  kinds  of  risks,  usually  with  suc 
cess. 

John  was  very  comfortable  now,  as  he  leaned  back 
in  the  armored  car,  driven  by  a  young  Frenchman. 
He  wore  a  heavy  blue  overcoat  over  his  uniform, 
and  his  only  weapon  was  a  powerful  automatic  re 
volver  in  his  belt,  but  it  was  enough.  The  ambu 
lances,  filled  with  wounded,  stretched  a  half-mile  in 
front  of  him,  but  he  had  grown  so  used  to  such 
sights  that  they  did  not  move  him  long.  Moreover 
in  this  war  a  man  was  not  dead  until  he  was  dead. 

50 


JULIE'S  COMING 

The  small  bullets  of  the  high-powered  rifle  either 
killed  or  harmed  but  little.  It  was  the  shrapnel  that 
tore. 

The  road  led  across  low  hills,  and  down  slopes 
which  he  knew  were  kissed  by  a  warm  sun  in  sum 
mer.  It  was  here  that  the  vines  flourished,  but  the 
snow  could  not  hide  the  fact  that  it  was  torn  and 
trampled  now.  Huge  armies  had  surged  back  and 
forth  over  it,  and  yet  John,  who  was  of  a  thought 
ful  mind,  knew  that  in  a  few  more  summers  it 
would  be  as  it  had  been  before.  In  this  warm  and 
watered  France  Nature  would  clothe  the  earth  in  a 
green  robe  which  winter  itself  could  not  wholly  drive 
away. 

A  reader  of  history,  he  knew  that  Europe  had  been 
torn  and  ravaged  by  war,  times  past  counting,  and 
yet  geologically  it  was  among  the  youngest  and  fresh 
est  of  lands.  Everything  would  pass  and  new  youth 
would  take  the  place  of  the  youth  that  the  shells 
and  bullets  were  now  carrying  away. 

He  shook  himself.  Reflections  like  these  were  for 
men  of  middle  years.  The  tide  of  his  own  youth 
flowed  back  upon  him  and  the  world,  even  under 
snow  and  with  stray  guns  thundering  behind  him, 
was  full  of  splendor.  Moreover,  there  was  the  vil 
lage  of  Chastel  before  him!  Chastel!  Chastel!  He 
had  never  heard  of  it  until  two  or  three  days  ago, 
and  yet  it  now  loomed  in  his  mind  as  large  as  Paris 
or  New  York.  Julie  must  have  arrived  already,  and 
he  would  see  her  again  after  so  many  months  of 
hideous  war,  but  deep  down  in  his  mind  persisted 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

the  belief  that  she  should  not  have  come.  Lannes 
must  have  had  some  reason  that  he  could  not  sur 
mise,  or  he  would  not  have  written  the  letter  asking 
her  to  meet  him  at  Chastel. 

The  village,  he  learned  from  one  of  the  men  in 
the  automobile,  was  only  ten  miles  away  and  it  was 
built  upon  a  broad,  low  hill  at  the  base  of  which  a 
little  river  flowed.  It  was  very  ancient.  A  town 
of  the  Belgse  stood  there  in  Csetear's  time,  but  it 
contained  not  more  than  two  thousand  inhabitants, 
and  its  chief  feature  was  a  very  beautiful  Gothic 
cathedral. 

John's  automobile  could  have  reached  Chastel  in 
less  than  an  hour,  despite  the  snow  and  the  slush, 
but  the  train  of  the  wounded  was  compelled  to  move 
slowly,  and  he  must  keep  with  it.  Meanwhile  he 
scanned  the  sky  with  powerful  glasses,  which  he  had 
been  careful  to  secure  after  his  escape  from  Auers- 
perg.  Nearly  all  officers  carried  strong  glasses  in 
this  war,  and  yet  even  to  the  keenest  eyes  the  hosts 
of  the  air  were  visible  only  in  part. 

John  now  and  then  saw  telephone  wires  running 
through  the  clumps  of  forest  and  across  the  fields. 
There  was  a  perfect  web  of  them,  reaching  all  the 
way  from  Alsace  and  the  Forest  of  Argonne  to  the 
sea.  Generals  talked  to  one  another  over  them, 
and  over  these  wires  the  signal  officers  sent  messages 
to  the  men  in  the  batteries  telling  them  how  to  fire 
their  guns. 

The  telegraph,  too,  was  at  work.  The  wires  were 
clicking  everywhere,  and  the  air  was  filled  also  with 

52 


JULIE'S  COMING 

messages  which  went  on  no  wires  at  all,  but  which 
took  invisible  wings  unto  themselves.  The  wireless, 
despite  its  constant  use,  remained  a  mystery  and  won 
der  to  John.  One  of  his  most  vivid  memories  was 
that  night  on  the  roof  of  the  chateau,  when  Whar- 
ton  talked  through  space  to  the  German  generals, 
and  learned  their  plans. 

He  looked  up  now  and  his  eyes  were  shut,  but  he 
almost  fancied  that  he  could  see  the  words  passing 
in  clouds  over  his  head,  written  on  nothing,  but  there, 
nevertheless,  the  most  mysterious  and,  in  some  ways, 
the  most  powerful  part  of  the  hosts  of  the  air,  the 
hosts  that  within  a  generation  had  changed  the  ways 
of  armies  and  battles.  He  opened  his  eyes  and  found 
himself  searching  for  aeroplanes,  the  most  tangible 
portion  of  those  hosts  of  the  air,  with  which  man 
had  to  fight.  He  saw  several  behind  him,  where  the 
French  and  German  lines  almost  met,  but  there  was 
no  shape  resembling  the  Arrow. 

The  aeroplanes  and  Zeppelins  had  been  much  less 
active  since  winter  had  come  in  full  tide.  They  were 
essentially  birds  of  sunshine  and  fair  weather,  liking 
but  little  clouds  and  storms.  And  as  die  skies  still 
looked  very  threatening  John  judged  that  they  would 
not  be  abroad  much  that  day.  The  conditions  were  far 
from  promising,  as  a  heavy  massing  of  the  clouds 
in  the  southwest  indicated  more  snow. 

"There  is  Chastel,  sir,"  said  Mallet,  his  chauffeur. 
"You  can  see  the  steeple  of  the  cathedral  shining 
through  the  clouds." 

John's  eyes  followed  the  pointing  finger,  and  he 
53 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

caught  a  high  gleam,  although  all  beneath  was  a  mass 
of  floating  gray  mist.  But  he  knew  it  was  a  few 
beams  of  the  sun  piercing  through  the  clouds  and 
striking  upon  some  solid  object.  He  put  the  glasses 
to  his  eyes  and  then  he  was  able  to  discern  an  old, 
old  town,  standing  on  a  cliff  above  a  stream  that 
he  would  have  called  a  creek  at  home.  Some  of  the 
houses  were  of  stone,  and  others  were  of  timber  and 
concrete,  but  it  was  evident  that  war  had  passed 
already  over  Chastel.  As  he  rode  nearer  he  beheld 
buildings  ruined  by  shells  or  fire.  Many  of  them 
seemed  to  be  razed  almost  level  with  the  ground. 
The  evidences  of  battle  were  everywhere.  He  sur 
mised  that  it  had  been  held  for  a  while  by  the  Ger 
mans  on  their  retreat  from  the  Marne,  and  that  the 
fighting  there  had  been  desperate. 

In  the  lower  ground  on  the  near  side  of  the  stream 
were  many  small  board  houses  arranged  in  a  square, 
and  these  he  knew  were  the  hospital.  He  would 
remain  there  until  the  last  of  the  wounded  were 
discharged,  and  then  he  would  enter  Chastel.  Mallet 
informed  him  that  his  surmises  were  correct  and  he 
saw  for  himself  that  the  head  of  the  train  had  already 
turned  into  the  square  around  which  the  little  board 
houses  were  built. 

The  transferring  of  the  hurt,  took  nearly  all  the 
morning,  and  John  faithfully  performed  his  part. 
There  was  Chastel  only  a  few  hundred  yards  away, 
now  clearly  visible  despite  the  massive  clouds  that 
floated  persistently  across  the  sky.  Yet  he  made  no 
attempt  to  reach  it  until  his  work  was  done,  nor  did 

54 


JULIE'S  COMING 

he  speak  of  it,  not  even  to  the  chauffeur,  Mallet,  of 
whom  he  had  made  a  good  friend. 

Near  noon,  the  task  finished,  he  ate  luncheon  and 
started  toward  Chastel.  His  orders  from  Captain 
Colton  allowed  him  much  liberty,  and  he  was  not 
compelled  to  account  to  anyone,  when  he  chose  to 
enter  the  town.  He  crossed  the  stream,  muddy  from 
the  melting  snow,  on  a  small  stone  bridge,  which  he 
believed  from  its  steep  arch  must  date  almost  back 
to  the  time  of  the  Romans,  and  pausing  on  the  other 
side  looked  up  once  more  at  Chastel.  He  had  no 
doubt  that,  seen  in  the  sunshine  and  as  it  was,  it 
had  been  both  picturesque  and  beautiful.  But  now  it 
lay  half  in  ruins,  under  a  sullen  sky,  and  he  beheld 
no  sign  of  life.  Just  above  him  within  its  grounds 
stood  a  large  chateau,  that  had  been  riven  through 
and  through  by  shells.  The  walls  looked  as  if  they 
were  ready  to  fall  apart  and  John  shivered  a  little. 
Farther  on  was  a  public  building  of  some  kind,  de 
stroyed  by  fire,  all  save  the  walls  which  stood,  black 
ened  and  desolate,  and  now  he  saw  that  the  cathedral 
too  had  been  damaged. 

A  flake  of  snow,  large  and  damp,  settled  on  his 
hand.  The  clouds  were  massing,  directly  over  his 
head,  and  he  feared  another  fall.  It  was  unfortu 
nate,  but  nothing  could  drive  him  back,  and  finding 
a  flight  of  stone  steps  he  ascended  them  and  entered 
the  village. 

Chastel  had  looked  somber  from  the  plain  below, 
where  some  of  the  effect,  John  had  thought,  might 
be  due  to  distance,  but  here  it  was  a  silent  ruin,  tragic 

55 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

Bnd  terrible.  Over  this  village,  once  so  near  and 
trim,  as  he  could  easily  see,  war  had  swept  in  its 
most  hideous  fashion.  Houses  were  riddled  and  the 
gray  light  showed  through  them  from  wall  to  wall 
where  the  great  shells  had  passed.  A  bronze  statue 
standing  in  a  fountain  in  the  center  of  the  little 
place  or  square  had  been  struck,  and  it  lay  prone  and 
shattered  in  the  water. 

The  first  flakes  of  the  new  snow  began  to  fall, 
and  the  sinister  sky,  heavy  with  clouds,  took  on  the 
darkness  of  twilight,  although  night  was  far  away, 
Yet  the  huge  rents  and  holes  in  the  houses  and  the 
fallen  masonry  seemed  to  grow  more  distinct  in  the 
gloom.  The  village  consisted  chiefly  of  one  long 
street,  and  as  John  looked  up  and  down  it,  he  did 
not  see  a  single  human  being.  Nothing  was  visible 
to  him  but  the  iron  hoof  of  war  crushing  everything 
under  it,  and  he  shuddered  violently. 

The  snow  began  to  drive,  whipped  by  a  bitter  wind, 
and  he  drew  the  heavy  blue  overcoat  closely  about 
him.  The  shuddering  which  was  not  of  the  snow  and 
the  cold,  passed,  but  his  heart  was  ice.  The  aban 
doned  town  over  which  Germans  and  French  had 
fought  oppressed  him  like  a  nightmare.  What  had 
become  of  Julie?  Why  had  Philip  asked  her  to  meet 
him  at  such  a  place?  There  was  the  hospital,  but  it 
was  in  the  plain  below,  where  lights  now  shone  faintly 
through  the  heavy  gray  air  and  the  driving  snow 

Surely  Lannes  could  not  have  made  any  mistake! 
John  had  learned  to  trust  his  judgment  thoroughly 
and  Philip,  too,  knew  the  country  so  well.  If  he  had 

56 


JULIE'S  COMING 

sent  for  Julie  to  come  to  Chastel  he  must  have  had 
a  good  reason  for  it,  although  the  snow  was  bound 
to  delay  the  coming  of  the  Arrow  to  meet  her.  If 
she  had  reached  Chastel  she  would  remain  there,  and 
not  go  to  the  hospital  in  the  plain  below.  She  trusted 
her  brother  as  implicitly  as  John  did. 

John,  taking  thought  with  himself,  concluded  that 
she  must  be  now  in  the  village.  It  was  not  possible 
that  Chastel,  silent  as  it  was  and  desolate  as  it 
seemed,  could  be  entirely  deserted.  Although  leaving 
ruin  behind,  the  fury  of  battle  had  passed  and  some 
of  the  people  would  return  to  their  homes.  Chastel 
lay  behind  the  French  lines,  a  great  hospital  camp 
was  not  far  away,  and  the  fear  of  further  German 
invasion  could  not  be  present  now. 

He  put  one  hand  in  his  overcoat  pocket  over  the 
butt  of  the  automatic,  and  then,  remembering  how 
General  Vaugirard  whistled,  he  too  whistled,  not  for 
want  of  thought  but  to  encourage  himself,  to  make 
his  heart  beat  a  little  less  violently,  and  to  hear  a 
cheerful  sound  where  there  was  nothing  else  but  the 
soft  swish  of  the  snow  and  the  desolate  moaning  of 
the  wind  among  the  ruins. 

He  walked  down  the  main  street,  and  unconsciously 
stopped  whistling.  Then  the  awful  silence  and  deso 
lation  brooded  over  him  again.  The  storm  was 
thickening,  and  the  lights  in  the  plain  below  were 
entirely  gone  now.  He  was  not  yet  able  to  find  any 
proof  of  human  life  in  Chastel,  and,  after  all,  the 
righting  in  the  town  might  have  been  so  recent  and 
so  fierce  that  not  one  of  the  inhabitants  yet  dared 

57 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

to  return.  The  thought  made  his  heart  throb  pain 
fully.  What,  then,  had  become  of  Julie? 

He  stopped  before  the  cathedral,  and  looked  up  at 
the  lofty  Gothic  spire  which  seemed  to  tower  above 
the  whirling  snow.  As  well  as  he  could  see  some 
damage  had  been  done  to  the  roof  by  shells,  but 
f:he  beautiful  stained-glass  windows  were  uninjured. 
He  stood  there  gazing,  and  he  knew  in  his  heart  that 
he  was  looking  for  a  sign,  like  that  which  he  and 
Lannes  had  seen  on  the  Arc  de  Triomphe  when  the 
fortunes  of  France  seemed  lost  forever. 

A  stalwart  figure  suddenly  emerged  from  the  white 
gloom  and  heavy  hands  were  laid  upon  him.  John's 
own  fingers  in  his  overcoat  pocket  tightened  over  the 
automatic,  but  the  hands  on  his  shoulders  were  those 
of  friendship. 

"Ah,  it  is  thou,  Monsieur  Scott!"  exclaimed  a  deep 
voice.  "The  master  has  not  come  but  thou  art  thrice 
welcome  in  his  place!" 

It  was  Picard,  no  less  than  Antoine  Picard  him 
self,  looming  white  and  gigantic  through  the  storm, 
and  John  could  not  doubt  the  genuine  warmth  in  his 
voice.  He  was  in  truth  welcome  and  he  knew  it. 
As  Picard's  hands  dropped  from  his  shoulders  he 
seized  them  in  his  and  wrung  them  hard. 

"Mademoiselle  Julie!"  he  exclaimed.  "What  of 
her?  Did  she  come?  Or  have  you  only  come  in  her 
place?" 

"She  is  here,  sir !  In  the  church  with  Suzanne,  my 
daughter.  We  arrived  two  hours  ago.  I  wanted  to 
go  on  to  the  camp  that  we  could  see  in  the  plain 

58 


JULIE'S  COMING 

below,  but  Mademoiselle  Lannes  would  not  hear  of 
it.  It  was  here  that  Monsieur  Philip  wished  her  to 
meet  him,  and  if  she  went  on  he  would  miss  her. 
We  expected  to  find  food  and  rooms,  but,  my  God, 
sir,  the  town  is  deserted !  Most  of  the  houses 
have  been  shot  to  pieces  by  the  artillery  and  if 
people  are  here  we  cannot  find  them.  Because  of 
that  we  have  taken  shelter,  for  the  present,  in  the 
church." 

But  John  in  his  eagerness  was  already  pushing 
open  one  of  the  huge  bronze  doors,  and  Picard, 
brushing  some  of  the  snow  from  his  clothes,  followed 
him.  The  door  swung  shut  behind  them  both,  and  he 
stood  beside  one  of  the  pews  staring  into  the  dusky 
interior. 

But  his  eyes  became  used  to  the  gloom,  and  soon 
it  did  not  seem  so  somber  as  it  was  outside.  Instead 
the  light  from  the  stained-glass  windows  made  the 
mists  and  shadows  luminous.  A  nave,  the  lofty 
pillars  dividing  it  from  the  side  aisles,  the  choir  and 
the  altar  emerged  slowly  into  view.  From  the  walls 
pictures  of  the  Madonna  and  the  saints,  unstained 
and  untouched,  looked  down  upon  him.  One  of  the 
candles  near  the  altar  had  been  lighted,  and  it  burned 
with  a  steady,  beckoning  flame. 

The  cathedral,  a  great  building  for  a  small  town, 
as  happens  so  often  in  Europe,  presented  a  warm  and 
cheerful  interior  to  John.  It  seemed  to  him  soon  after 
the  huge  bronze  door  sank  into  place  behind  him  that 
war,  cold,  desolation  and  loneliness  were  shut  out.  The 
luminous  glow  streaming  through  the  stained  glass 

59 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

windows  and  the  candle  burning  near  the  altar  were 
beacons. 

Then  he  saw  Julie,  sitting  wrapped  in  a  heavy  cloak, 
in  one  of  the  pews  before  the  choir,  and  the  grim 
Suzanne,  also  shrouded  in  a  heavy  cloak,  sat  beside 
her.  John's  heart  was  in  a  glow.  He  knew  now 
that  he  loved  his  comrade  Philip's  sister.  Two  or 
three  of  the  golden  curls  escaping  from  her  hood, 
fell  down  her  back,  and  they  were  twined  about  his 
heart.  He  knew  too  that  it  was  not  the  light  from 
the  stained  windows,  but  Julie  herself  who  had  filled 
the  church  with  splendor.  She  was  to  John  a  young 
goddess,  perfect  in  her  beauty,  one  who  could  do  no 
wrong.  His  love  had  all  the  tenderness  and  purity 
of  young  love,  the  poetic  love  that  comes  only  to 
youth. 

But  when  he  realized  that  Julie  Lannes  had  become 
so  much  to  him  he  felt  a  sudden  shyness,  and  he 
let  the  gigantic  Picard  lead  the  way.  They  had  made 
no  noise  in  opening  and  closing  the  door,  and  their 
boots  had  been  soundless  on  the  stone  floor. 

"The  American,  Lieutenant  Scott,  Mademoiselle," 
said  Picard  respectfully. 

John  saw  her  little  start  of  surprise,  but  when 
she  stood  up  she  was  quite  self-possessed.  Her  color 
was  a  little  deeper  than  usual,  but  it  might  be  the 
luminous  glow  from  the  stained-glass  windows,  or 
the  cloak  of  dark  red  which  wrapped  her  from  chin 
to  feet  may  have  given  that  added  touch. 

She  had  been  weary  and  anxious,  and  John  thought 
he  detected  a  gleam  of  welcome  in  her  glance.  At 

60 


JULIE'S  COMING 

least  it  pleased  him  to  think  so.  The  stern  Suzanne 
had  given  him  a  startled  look,  but  the  glance  seemed 
to  John  less  hostile  than  it  used  to  be. 

"I  was  told,  Miss  Lannes,"  said  John  in  Eng 
lish,  "that  you  had  received  a  letter  from  your  brother, 
Philip,  to  meet  him  here  in  Chastel.  One  Weber, 
an  Alsatian,  an  able  and  trustworthy  man  whom  I 
know,  gave  me  the  news." 

It  had  often  been  his  habit,  when  speaking  his  own 
language,  to  call  her,  American  fashion,  "Miss"  in 
stead  of  "Mademoiselle,"  and  now  she  smiled  at  the 
little,  remembered  touch. 

"It  was  Mr.  Weber  who  brought  the  letter  to  me 
in  Paris,  Mr.  Scott,"  she  said.  "You  know  it  was 
my  wish  to  serve  our  brave  soldiers  hurt  in  battle, 
and  I  was  not  surprised  that  the  letter  from  Philip 
should  come." 

"In  what  manner  did  you  arrive  here?" 
"In  a  small  automobile.     It  is  standing  behind  the 
cathedral  now.     Antoine  is  an  excellent  driver.     But, 
Oh,  Mr.  Scott,  it  has  been  a  strange  and  lonely  ride! 
Once  we  thought  we  were  going  to  be  captured.    As 
we  passed  through  a  forest  Antoine  was  quite  sure 
that  he  caught  a  gleam  of  German  lances  far  away, 
but  much  too  near  for  assurance,  and  he  drove  the 
motor  forward  at  a  great  rate." 
"And  then  you  arrived  in  Chastel?" 
"Yes,  Mr.  Scott,  then  we  came  to  Chastel." 
"But  you  did  not  see  what  you  expected  to  see." 
She  shivered  and  the  brilliant  color  left  her  face 
for  a  moment. 

61 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"No,  Mr.  Scott,  I  did  not  find  what  I  thought 
would  be  here.  Philip  had  not  come,  but  that  did 
not  alarm  me  so  much,  and  I  knew  that  for  awhile 
the  snow  had  made  the  flight  of  aeroplanes  impos 
sible.  No,  it  was  not  the  absence  of  Philip  that 
filled  me  with  terror.  Surely  when  he  sent  for  me 
he  did  not  anticipate  such  fighting  as  must  have  oc 
curred  here  so  recently." 

"He  would  never  have  drawn  you  into  danger." 

"I  know  it,  and  that  is  why  I  am  so  puzzled  and 
so  full  of  apprehension.  The  sight  of  Chastel  appalls 
me  and  it  has  had  its  influence  upon  Antoine  and 
Suzanne,  strong  as  they  are.  We  saw  ruins,  Mr. 
Scott,  the  terrible  path  of  battle,  and  no  human  being 
until  you  came." 

"I  had  the  same  feeling  myself,  nor  did  I  see  life 
either  until  I  met  Antoine,  Miss  Julie,  if  I  may  call 
you  so  instead  of  Miss  Lannes?" 

"Yes,  of  course,  Mr.  Scott.  But  what  does  it 
mean?  Why  haven't  the  people  come  back?" 

They  were  still  talking  in  English,  and  Suzanne's 
customary  look  had  returned  to  her  face  in  all  its 
grimness,  but  they  went  on,  unmindful  of  her. 

"I  confess,  Miss  Julie,  I  don't  understand  it,"  re 
plied  John.  "The  fighting  here  seems  to  have  oc 
curred  within  the  last  two  or  three  days.  It  is  behind 
our  lines  and  I  did  not  hear  of  it,  but  so  much  has  hap 
pens  of  which  we  do  not  hear,  and  there  has  been 
so  much  shifting  of  the  lines  in  recent  days  that  a 
battle  could  easily  have  occurred  at  Chastel  without 
my  knowledge.  And  the  shock  of  cannon  fire  with 

62 


JULIE'S  COMING 

the  enormous  guns  now  used  is  so  tremendous  that 
the  fleeing  people  may  not  have  recovered  from  it  yet. 
Doubtless  they  will  return  tomorrow  or  the  next 
day." 

"I  hope  so,  Mr.  Scott.  A!  ruined  town  with  nobody 
in  it  oppresses  terribly." 

A  sudden  thought  stabbed  at  John's  heart.  It  was 
possible  that  the  people  of  Chastel  did  not  return 
because  they  were  fearing  another  attack.  If  Antoine 
had  caught  the  gleam  of  German  lances  in  the  wood 
then  a  considerable  German  force  might  be  behind 
the  French  lines.  Snowstorms  formed  a  good  cover 
for  secret  operations. 

Julie  noticed  the  passing  shadow  in  his  face  and  she 
knew  it  to  be  the  sign  of  alarm. 

"What  is  it,  Mr.  Scott?"  she  asked.  "Do  you 
know  of  any  danger?" 

"No,"  he  replied  truthfully,  because  he  had  dis 
missed  his  thought  as  incredible,  "but  you  will  not 
remain  here,  Miss  Julie.  You  and  your  servant  will 
go  to  the  hospital  camp,  will  you  not?  It  is  not  much 
more  than  a  mile  beyond  the  river." 

But  to  his  surprise  she  shook  her  head. 

"I  must  stay  in  Chastel,"  she  said.  "It  is  here 
that  Philip  wished  me  to  come,  and  if  I  am  not  here 
when  he  arrives  he  will  not  know  where  to  find  me. 
And  there  is  no  danger.  You  know  that,  Mr.  Scott. 
If  Antoine  really  saw  German  lances  as  he  claims, 
it  is  no  proof  that  German  horsemen  will  come  to 
Chastel,  running  into  danger.  What  have  they  to 
gain  by  raiding  a  ruined  town?" 

63 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"There  is  much  reason  in  what  you  say.  Certainly 
it  would  avail  the  Germans  nothing  to  gallop  through 
shattered  Chastel  in  a  snowstorm.  But  you  can't 
spend  the  night  in  the  church.  I've  no  doubt  that 
we  can  find  bed  and  board  for  all  of  us  in  some 
abandoned  house." 

The  driving  snow  had  reconciled  John  somewhat 
to  the  idea  of  Julie  passing  the  night  in  Chastel.  The 
road  leading  down  to  the  river  was  steep  and  the 
bridge  over  which  he  had  crossed  was  narrow  with 
a  very  high  arch.  A  motor  might  easily  miss  the 
way  in  the  darkening  storm,  and  then  meet  disaster. 

Julie  looked  at  him  inquiringly  as  if  she  wished  his 
indorsement  of  her  plan,  although  her  lips  were  closed 
tightly. 

"Of  course  you'll  stay,  Miss  Julie,"  he  said,  "and 
I'll  stay  too,  although  I'm  not  invited." 

"You're  invited  now." 

"Thanks.  Consider  me  a  follower,  or  rather  a 
dragoman,  to  use  the  eastern  term." 

Then  he  said  to  Antoine  in  French: 

"Mademoiselle  Lannes  is  resolved  to  remain  to 
night  in  Chastel.  She  thinks  that  if  her  brother 
were  to  come  her  absence  would  upset  all  his 
plans." 

Picard  nodded.     His  was  the  soul  of  loyalty. 

"It  is  right,"  he  said.  "It  is  here  that  Monsieur 
Philip  expects  to  find  her  and  we  can  guard  her." 

John  liked  the  inclusive  "we." 

"And  now  to  work,  Antoine  and  Suzanne,"  he 
said.  "We've  agreed  that  we  can't  spend  the  night 

64 


JULIE'S  COMING 

in  the  cathedral.  Perhaps  there  is  no  better  refuge 
so  far  as  the  storm  is  concerned,  but  a  pew  is  not 
a  good  bed,  except  for  hardened  old  soldiers  like  you 
and  me,  Antoine." 

"No,  Mr.  Scott,  it  is  not." 

"Then  I  suggest  that  we  leave  Mademoiselle  Lannes 
and  Suzanne  here  while  we  look  for  shelter." 

But  Julie  would  not  agree.  They  must  all  go  out 
together.  What  was  a  little  snow?  Should  a  Lannes 
mind  it?  She  drew  her  great  red  cloak  more  closely 
around  her  and  led  the  way  from  the  choir  to  the 
bronze  doors,  the  others  following  in  silence. 

John  felt  that  Julie  had  shown  much  decision  and 
firmness.  When  she  had  declared  that  she  would 
not  remain  in  the  church  her  tone  and  manner  were 
wonderfully  like  those  of  her  brother  Philip.  She 
was  altogether  worthy  of  the  name  of  Lannes,  and 
the  fact  appealed  strongly  to  young  Scott,  who  liked 
strength  and  courage. 

When  they  were  outside  they  saw  that  the  storm 
had  increased.  The  snow  was  driving  so  thickly  that 
they  could  not  see  fifty  yards  ahead,  and  their  quest 
of  a  house  for  the  night  would  be  difficult.  But  the 
lofty  steeple  of  the  church  with  its  protecting  cross 
still  towered  above  them  and  John  felt,  if  their  search 
was  vain,  that  the  cathedral  would  always  be  there 
to  shelter  them.  Doubtless  the  provident  Picard  also 
had  provisions  in  the  motor. 

"I  believe  you  told  me  your  machine  was  behind 
the  cathedral,  Antoine,"  he  said.  "We  ought  first  to 
take  a  look  at  it,  and  see  that  it's  all  right." 

65 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

'That's  very  true,  sir,"  replied  Picard.  "Shall  we 
not  go  there  and  see  it,  Mademoiselle  Julie?" 

She  nodded  and  they  passed  to  the  rear  of  the 
cathedral,  where  the  machine  stood  under  a  shed.  It 
was  a  small  limousine  with  a  powerful  body,  and  John, 
although  knowing  little  of  automobiles,  liked  its  looks. 

"How  about  the  gasoline  supply  ?"  he  asked  Picard. 

"Enough,  sir,   for  a  long  journey." 

"You've  brought  food?" 

"Food  and  wine  both,  sir,  under  the  seats." 

"That's  very  good,  but  I  knew  you'd  be  far- 
seeing,  Picard.  If  we  don't  find  a  good  place  we 
can  take  the  supplies  and  return  to  the  cathedral." 

"But  we  will  find  lodgings,  Sir  Jean  the  Scott," 
said  Julie,  catching  the  trick  of  the  name  from  her 
brother.  "I  command  you  to  lead  the  way  and  dis 
cover  them." 

Her  dark  red  cloak  was  now  white  with  the  driven 
snow,  and  her  face,  rosy  with  the  cold,  looked  from 
a  dark  red  hood,  also  turned  white.  John  saw  that 
her  eyes  laughed.  He  realized  suddenly  that  she 
felt  neither  fear  nor  apprehension.  He  had  discov 
ered  a  new  quality,  the  same  heroic  soul  that  her 
brother  Philip  had,  the  unquenchable  courage  of  the 
great  marshal.  He  realized  that  she  found  a  certain 
enjoyment  in  the  situation,  that  the  spirit  of  adventure 
was  upon  her.  His  own  pulses  leaped  and  his  soul 
responded. 

"Come  on,"  he  said  in  a  strong  voice.  "If  there's 
a  habitation  in  this  place  fit  for  you  I'll  find  it." 
John  had  resumed  command,  but  Julie  walked  at  his 

66 


JULIE'S  COMING 

elbow,  a  brave  and  strong  lieutenant.  The  two 
Picards  followed  close  behind.  Suzanne,  at  this  mo 
ment,  when  the  resources  of  Scott  were  needed  so 
much,  had  relaxed  somewhat  of  her  grimness.  She 
and  Antoine  said  nothing  as  they  bent  their  heads  to 
the  snow.  Unconsciously  they  had  resigned  decision 
and  leadership  to  the  young  pair  who  walked  before 
them. 

John  glanced  toward  the  river  and  the  plain  beyond, 
but  he  merely  looked  into  a  wall,  cold,  white  and 
impenetrable.  No  ray  of  light  or  life  came  from  it. 
The  hospital  camp  had  been  blotted  out  completely. 
But  from  the  north  came  a  faint  sullen  note,  and  he 
knew  that  it  was  the  throb  of  a  great  gun.  Julie 
heard  it  too. 

"They're  still  firing,"  she  said. 

"Yes,  but  it  may  not  be  snowing  so  hard  a  few 
miles  away  from  here.  I  discovered  when  I  was  up 
in  the  air  with  Philip  that  the  air  moves  in  eddies 
and  gusts  and  currents  like  the  ocean,  and  that  it 
has  bays  and  straits,  and  this  may  be  a  narrow  strait 
of  snow  that  envelops  us  here.  Hear  that!  Guns 
to  the  south,  too !  One  side  is  shelling  the  other's 
trenches.  You  remember  how  it  was  in  all  the  long 
fighting  that  we  call  the  Battle  of  the  Marne.  Day 
and  night,  night  and  day  the  guns  thundered  and 
crashed.  I  seemed  when  I  slept  to  hear  'em  in  my 
dreams.  They  never  stopped." 

"It  makes  me,  too,  think  of  that  time,  Mr.  Scott, 
except  that  this  is  winter  and  that  was  summer.  The 
cloud  of  battle  is  just  the  same." 

67 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"But  the  results  are  much  less.  It's  a  deadlock, 
and  has  been  a  deadlock  for  months.  I  don't  expect 
anything  decisive  until  spring,  and  maybe  not  then. 
Here  is  a  good  house,  Miss  Julie.  It  looks  as  if  the 
mayor,  or  Chastel's  banker  might  have  lived  here. 
Suppose  we  try  it." 

But  the  house  had  been  stripped.  All  the  rooms 
were  cold  and  bare,  and  in  the  rear  a  huge  shell  had 
exploded  leaving  yawning  gaps  in  the  walls,  through 
which  the  snow  was  driving  fast.  Julie  shivered. 

"Let's  go  away  from  it,"  she  said.  "I  couldn't 
sleep  in  this  house.  It's  continually  talking  to  us  in 
a  language  I  don't  like  to  hear." 

"I  don't  hear  its  talk,"  said  John,  "but  I  see  its 
ghosts  walking,  and  I'm  as  anxious  to  get  away  from 
it  as  you  are." 

Nor  were  Antoine  and  Suzanne  reluctant,  and  they 
hurried  out  to  enter  another  house  which  had  suffered 
a  similar  fate.  They  passed  through  a  half-dozen, 
all  torn  and  shattered  by  monster  shells,  and  at  last 
they  came  to  one  which  had  before  it  a  stretch  of 
grass,  a  pebbled  walk,  a  fountain,  now  dry,  and  benches 
painted  green,  under  their  covering  of  snow. 

"An  inn!"  said  John.  "This  is  surely  Chastel's 
hotel.  Either  the  de  1' Europe,  the  Grand  or  the  Hol- 
lande,  because  more  than  half  the  hotels  in  Europe 
bear  one  or  the  other  of  those  names.  Is  it  not 
fitting,  Miss  Julie,  that  we  should  enter  and  take  our 
rest  in  an  inn?" 

She  looked  at  it  with  sparkling  eyes.  Again  the 
spirit  of  adventure  was  high  within  her. 

68 


JULIE'S  COMING 

"It  seems  to  be  undamaged,"  she  said.  "Perhaps 
we'll  find  someone  there." 

John  shook  his  head. 

"No,  Miss  Julie,"  he  said,  "I'm  convinced  that  it's 
silent  and  alone.  You'll  observe  that  no  smoke  is 
rising  from  any  of  its  chimneys,  and  every  window 
that  we  can  see  is  dark." 

"What  do  you  say,  Antoine,  and  you  Suzanne?" 
asked  Julie. 

"It  is  evident,  since  the  inn  has  no  other  guests, 
that  we  have  been  sent  here  by  the  Supreme  Power, 
for  what  purpose  I  know  not,"  replied  Suzanne,  de 
voutly. 

"Then  there  is  no  need  to  delay  longer,"  said  John, 
and,  leading  the  way  up  the  pebbled  walk,  he  pushed 
open  the  central  door. 


CHAPTER    IV 

THE    HOTEL   AT    CHASTEL 

JOHN  was  fast  finding  that  in  a  crowded  country 
like  Europe,  suddenly  ravaged  by  war,  nothing 
was  more  common  than  abandoned  houses. 
People  were  continually  fleeing  at  a  moment's  warn 
ing.  He  had  already  made  use  of  two  or  three,  at 
a  time  when  they  were  needed  most,  and  here  was 
another  awaiting  him.  Before  he  pushed  open  the 
door  he  had  already  read  above  it,  despite  the  in 
crustations  of  snow,  the  sign,  "Hotel  de  1'Europe," 
and  he  felt  intuitively  that  they  were  coming  into  good 
quarters.  He  was  so  confident  of  it  that  his  cheerful 
mood  deepened,  turned  in  fact  into  joyousness. 

As  he  held  open  the  door  he  took  off  his  cap,  bowed 
low  and  said: 

"Enter  my  humble  hotel,  Madame  la  Princesse. 
Our  guests  are  all  too  few  now,  but  I  promise  you, 
Your  Highness,  that  you  and  your  entourage  shall 
have  the  best  the  house  affords.  Behold,  the  orchestra 
began  the  moment  you  entered!" 

As  he  spoke  the  deep  thunder  of  guns  came  from 
invisible  points  along  the  long  battle-line.  The  firing 
of  the  cannon  was  far  away  but  the  jarring  of  the 
air  was  distinct  in  Chastel,  and  the  windows  of  the 

70 


THE  HOTEL  AT  CHASTEL 

hotel  shook  in  their  frames.  John  and  Julie  had 
become  so  used  to  it  that  it  merely  heightened  their 
fantastic  mood. 

"Yours  is,  in  truth,  a  most  welcome  hotel,"  she 
said,  "and  I  see  that  we  shall  not  be  annoyed  by  other 
guests." 

She  shook  the  snow  from  her  hood  and  cloak  and 
entered,  and  Picard  and  Suzanne,  also  divesting  them 
selves  of  snow  coverings,  followed  her.  Then  John 
too  went  in,  and  once  more  closed  a  door  between 
them  and  the  storm.  He  noticed  that  the  great  An- 
toine  gave  him  a  glance  of  strong  approval,  and  even 
the  somber  Suzanne  seemed  to  be  thawing. 

John  was  sorry  that  the  European  hotels  did  not 
have  a  big  lobby  after  the  American  fashion.  It 
would  have  given  them  a  welcome  now,  but  all  was 
as  usual  in  the  Hotel  de  1' Europe,  Chastel.  There 
was  the  small  office  for  the  cashier,  and  the  smaller 
one  for  the  bookkeeper.  Near  them  was  the  bureau 
and  upon  it  lay  an  open  register.  Through  an  open 
door  beyond,  the  smoking-room  was  visible,  and  from 
where  he  stood  John  could  see  French  and  English 
illustrated  weeklies  lying  upon  the  tables.  Nothing 
had  been  taken,  nothing  was  in  disorder,  the  hotel 
was  complete,  save  that  it  was  as  bare  as  Crusoe's 
deserted  island.  But  John  did  not  feel  any  loneli 
ness.  Julie  and  the  two  Picards  were  with  him,  and 
the  aspect  of  the  Hotel  de  1' Europe  changed  all  at 
once. 

"We'll  register  first,"  said  John.  "I  know  it's  cus 
tomary  to  send  a  waiter  to  the  rooms  for  the  names, 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR, 

but  as  our  waiters  have  all  gone  out  we'll  use  the  book 
now." 

Pen  and  ink  stood  beside  the  register  and  he  wrote 
in  a  bold  hand: 

Mademoiselle  Julie  Lannes,  Paris,  France. 
Mademoiselle  Suzanne  Picard,  Paris,  France. 
Monsieur  Antoine  Picard,  Paris,  France. 
Mr.  John  Scott,  New  York,  U.  S.  A. 

Julie  looked  over  his  shoulder. 

"It  is  well,"  she  said.  "If  Philip  arrives  perhaps  he 
willcometothe  hotel  and  see  our  names  registered  here." 

"And  we'll  reserve  a  good  room  for  him,"  said 
John,  "but  although  I  don't  want  to  appear  a  pessi 
mist,  Miss  Julie,  I  don't  think  he'll  come  just  now, 
at  least  not  in  the  Arrow.  All  aeroplane,  balloon 
and  Zeppelin  trains  have  stopped  running  during  the 
blizzard.  Blizzard  is  an  American  word  of  ours  mean 
ing  a  driving  storm.  It's  expressive,  and  it  can  be 
used  with  advantage  in  Europe.  What  accommoda 
tions  do  you  wish,  Madame  la  Princesse?" 

"A  sitting-room,  a  bedroom  and  a  bath  for  myself, 
and  a  room  each  for  my  maid,  Suzanne,  and  my  faith 
ful  retainer,  her  father,  Antoine  Picard." 

"You  shall  have  all  that  you  wish  and  more,"  said 
John,  and  then  dropping  into  his  usual  tone  he  said : 
"I  think  we'd  better  look  over  the  rooms  together. 
It's  barely  possible  some  looter  may  be  prowling  in 
the  house.  Of  course,  the  electric  power  is  cut  off, 
but  Suzanne  will  know  where  to  find  candles,  and  we 
can  provide  for  all  the  light  we  need." 

72 


He  thought  of  light,  because  the  heavy  storm  out 
side  kept  the  hotel  in  shadow,  and  he  knew  that  when 
night  came,  depression  and  gloom  would  settle  upon 
them,  unless  they  found  some  way  to  dispel  the  dark 
ness.  Despite  the  silence  of  the  hotel  they  had  a  sense 
of  comfort.  They  had  been  oppressed  in  the  cathe 
dral  by  its  majesty  and  religious  gloom,  but  this  was 
the  haunt  of  men  and  women  who  used  to  come  in 
cheerfully  from  the  day's  business  and  who  laughed 
and  talked  in  rooms  and  on  the  stairways. 

John's  imaginative  mind  was  alive  at  once.  He  be 
held  pleasant  specters  all  about  him.  Chastel  was 
off  the  great  highways,  but  many  quiet  tourists  must 
have  come  here.  The  beautiful  cathedral,  the  pic 
turesque  situation  of  the  little  town  above  the  little 
river  and  the  very  ancient  Gothic  buildings  must  have 
been  an  attraction  to  the  knowing.  He  could  shut 
his  eyes  and  see  them  now,  many  of  them  his  own 
countrymen  and  countrywomen,  walking  in  the  halls 
after  a  day  of  sightseeing,  comparing  notes,  or  look 
ing  through  the  windows  down  at  the  little  river  that 
foamed  below.  Yes,  Chastel  had  been  a  pleasant  town 
and  one  could  pass  many  days  in  right  company  in 
its  Hotel  de  1' Europe. 

"What  are  you  smiling  at,  Mr.  John?"  asked  Julie. 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  called  him  "Mr.  John,'* 
the  equivalent  for  his  "Miss  Julie,"  and  he  liked  it. 
But  he  hid  his  pleasure  and  apparently  took  no  notice 
of  it. 

"I  was  seeing  our  hotel  in  times  of  peace,"  he  said. 
"It  was  a  sort  of  mental  transference,  I  suppose,  but 

73 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

the  place  looked  good  to  me.  It  was  crowded  with 
people,  many  of  whom  were  from  America,  and  some 
of  whom  I  would  like  to  know.  I've  never  had  a 
horror  of  tourists — in  fact  I  think  the  horror  of 
them  that  most  people  pretend  to  feel  is  a  sort  of  affec 
tation,  a  false  attempt  at  superiority — and  I  always 
liked,  when  I  was  a  sightseer  myself,  to  come  back 
to  the  hotel  in  the  evening  and  meet  the  cheerful 
crowd  full  of  chatter  and  gossip." 

"That  is  what  I  should  want  to  do  if  ever  I  should 
go  to  America.  They  say  that  your  distances  there 
are  great  and  your  hotels  large  and  bright.  I  shouldn't 
want  to  miss  seeing  the  people  in  the  evenings  under 
the  blazing  electric  lights." 

"You'll  see  them,  Miss  Julie,  because  I  know  that 
you're  going  to  America  some  time  or  other." 

They  were  speaking  in  English  again  and  Suzanne, 
wrapped  in  a  gray  cloak  and  looking  very  large,  as 
sumed  her  old  grim  look.  John  glanced  at  her  and 
for  the  moment  he  was  just  a  little  afraid  of  her. 
He  saw  her  eyes  saying  very  plainly:  "You're  an 
American  and  a  foreigner  and  my  mistress,  Made 
moiselle  Julie  Lanries,  a  very  young  girl,  is  French. 
You  should  not  be  talking  together  at  all,  and  if  you 
were  not  so  necessary  to  us  in  our  hour  of  danger  I 
would  see  that  she  was  quickly  taken  far  away  from 
you." 

He  led  the  way  into  the  smoking-room,  where  there 
were  many  comfortable  chairs,  and  writing-desks  with 
pen,  ink  and  paper  at  hand.  Everything  was  ready 
for  use,  but  guests  and  waiters  were  lacking. 

74 


THE  HOTEL  AT  CHASTEL 

"Let's  go  into  the  main  dining-room,"  said  John, 
who  had  opened  another  door.  "It's  a  fine,  big  place 
and  the  windows  look  directly  over  the  river.  Doubt 
less  we'd  have  a  good  view  from  here  if  it  were  not 
for  the  driving  snow." 

It  was,  in  fact,  a  handsome  long  room,  proving  the 
truth  of  John's  surmise  that  many  guests  came  at 
times  to  Chastel,  and,  to  their  great  surprise,  they 
found  several  of  the  tables  fully  dressed,  as  if  some 
of  the  people  had  just  been  sitting  down  to  dinner, 
when  the  voice  of  the  shells  bade  them  go. 

"You  see  it's  waiting  for  us,"  said  John.  "Why, 
we'd  have  done  its  proprietor  a  wrong  if  we'd  missed 
the  Hotel  de  1'Europe.  The  table  is  set  and,  hospitable 
Frenchman  that  he  is,  he'll  be  glad  to  know  that  some 
body  is  enjoying  his  house  in  his  absence.  The  pepper, 
the  salt  and  the  vinegar  are  there,  and  I  actually  see  a 
small  bottle  of  wine  on  one  of  the  tables." 

"Poor  man!"  said  Julie.  "It  must  have  cost  him 
much  to  go.  You  don't  know,  Mr.  John,  how  we 
French  love  our  homes  and  houses." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  do,  and  we  in  America,  since  there's 
no  longer  any  Wild  West  in  which  we  can  seek  ro 
mance  and  change,  are  settling  down  into  the  same 
habits." 

"Would  Mademoiselle  and  Mr.  Scott  wish  us  to 
serve  their  dinner  here?"  asked  Antoine  gravely,  the 
duties  of  his  position  ever  uppermost  in  his  mind. 

"Not  now,  Antoine,"  said  Julie,  "but  we  will  later. 
I'm  glad  to  see,  though,  that  you  are  making  the  best 
of  it.  You  show  a  spirit  worthy  of  a  Picard." 

75 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

Picard  bowed  and  smiled  with  gratification.  John 
suggested  that  they  look  upstairs  for  rooms,  and 
then,  after  putting  them  in  order,  they  could  return 
for  dinner.  But  before  ascending  the  grand  stairway, 
they  lighted  several  candles  which  Suzanne  had  found, 
and  put  them  at  convenient  places.  They  were  not 
sufficient  to  illuminate  the  interior  of  the  hotel,  but 
they  threw  a  soft  glow  which  John  found  warm  and 
pleasing. 

Above  was  the  main  drawing-room,  and  a  great 
array  of  guest  chambers,  continued  also  on  the  third 
floor,  which  was  the  last.  John  selected  the  best 
suite,  looking  over  the  river,  for  Julie  and  also  for 
Suzanne,  who,  under  the  circumstances,  must  remain 
with  her.  A  running  water  system  had  not  been 
installed  in  the  houses  of  Chastel  but  the  great  pitchers 
were  filled,  and  the  stalwart  Suzanne  could  easily 
bring  more.  They  were  good  rooms,  perhaps  with 
an  excess  of  gilt  and  glass  after  the  continental 
fashion,  but  they  were  comfortable,  and  John  said  to 
Julie : 

"Maybe  you'd  like  to  remain  here  a  half-hour  or 
so,  while  Antoine  and  I  choose  a  place  for  ourselves. 
It's  best  that  the  members  of  our  party  remain  close 
together  in  view  of  possible  emergencies." 

"Yes,  Suzanne  and  I  will  stay,"  said  Julie.  "I  felt 
no  weariness  a  few  moments  ago,  but  I've  grown  sud 
denly  tired.  A  short  rest  will  restore  me." 

"Very  well,"  said  John.  "I  bid  you  a  brief  au 
revoir,  and  when  you  hear  a  knock  on  your  sitting- 
room  door  don't  be  alarmed,  because  it  will  be  Antoine 

76 


THE  HOTEL  AT  CHASTEL 

and  I  returning.  Come,  Antoine,  we'll  let  the  ladies 
rest  while  you  and  I  look  for  the  state  apartments 
for  ourselves." 

Picard  permitted  a  grin  to  pass  over  his  broad  face. 
His  heart  belonged  to  his  daughter  Suzanne  and  the 
Lannes  family,  and  it  was  not  moved  easily  by  out 
siders.  Yet,  this  young  John  Scott  from  across  the 
sea  was  beginning  to  find  a  favorable  place  in  his 
mind.  He  spoke  good  French,  he  fought  well  for 
the  French,  he  was  highly  esteemed  by  Monsieur 
Philip,  he  had  done  great  service  for  Mademoiselle 
Julie  and  in  the  present  crisis  he  was  a  tower  of 
strength  for  them  all.  His  daughter,  Suzanne,  re 
garded  young  Scott  with  a  certain  fear,  but  he,  An 
toine,  could  not  share  it.  Henceforth  John  would  have 
his  distinct  approval,  and  he  felt  a  measure  of  pride 
in  being  now  his  comrade  in  danger. 

When  John  had  closed  the  door  of  the  sitting-room 
and  he  knew  that  neither  Julie  nor  Suzanne  could 
hear  him,  he  said  : 

"Picard,  have  you  any  weapon?" 

Picard  drew  a  heavy  automatic  revolver  from  the 
pocket  of  his  jacket. 

"Before  I  started  I  provided  myself  with  this,  know 
ing  the  dangers  of  the  journey,"  he  replied. 

"Good,  but  don't  use  it,  except  in  the  last  resort. 
Remember  how  near  you  came  to  execution  as  a  franc- 
tireur" 

"Does  Monsieur  apprehend  an  attack?" 

"I  scarcely  know,  Antoine.  But  things  have  come 
about  too  easily.  We  find  here  a  furnished  hotel 

77 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

waiting  for  us.  I've  no  doubt  that  the  kitchens  of 
the  Hotel  de  1' Europe  are  well  stocked,  and  we  have 
all  the  comforts,  even  the  luxuries  sufficient  for  a 
hundred  guests.  So  far  as  we  know  there  is  not  a  soul 
in  all  this  town  save  our  four  selves.  It  doesn't  look 
natural,  my  good  Antoine.  It's  positively  uncanny." 

"But,  sir,  if  what  we  want  is  here  waiting  for  us, 
why  shouldn't  we  take  it?" 

"That's  true,  wise  Antoine.  Take  the  goods  the 
gods  provide  thee  whilst  the  lovely  Thais  sits  beside 
thee,'  as  Mr.  Dryden  said." 

"Who  is  Mr.  Dryden?  Must  I  infer,  sir,  from 
his  name,  that  he  is  one  of  our  brave  English  allies?" 

"Doubtless  he  would  be  if  he  were  living,  but  he 
has  been  dead  some  time,  Antoine." 

"Alas,  sir,  the  way  of  all  flesh !" 

"So  it  is,  Antoine,  but  I  refuse  to  grieve  about  it 
or  get  morbid  over  it.  I  like  to  live  and  living  I  mean 
to  live.  What  do  you  think  of  this  big  room,  An 
toine?  It  has  two  beds  in  it,  one  for  you  and  one 
for  me,  and  it's  near  enough  to  hear  any  call  from 
the  suite,  occupied  by  Mademoiselle  Julie  and  your 
daughter." 

"A  wise  precaution.  Monsieur  Scott  thinks  of  every 
thing." 

"No,  not  of  everything,  Antoine,  but  the  presence 
of  Mademoiselle  Lannes  is  bound  to  sharpen  the  wits 
of  anyone  who  is  trying  to  take  care  of  her." 

"Will  you  make  your  toilet  here,  sir?  I  will  call 
Suzanne  and  we  will  prepare  dinner.  When  it  is  ready 
we  will  serve  Mademoiselle  Lannes  and  you." 

7* 


THE  HOTEL  AT  CHASTEL 

The  stalwart  Picard  had  become  all  at  once  the  dis 
creet  and  thoughtful  servant,  and  John  felt  a  sudden 
sense  of  rest  fulness.  Intense  democrat  that  he  was, 
he  realized  in  his  moment  of  weariness  that  all  could 
not  be  masters. 

"Thank  you,  Picard,"  he  said  gratefully.  "The 
afternoon  is  wearing  on  and  I  do  need  to  shake 
myself  up." 

"You'll  find  plenty  of  water  in  the  pitchers,  sir, 
and  there  are  clean  towels  on  the  rack.  One  would 
think,  sir,  that  the  manager  of  the  Hotel  de  1'Europe 
before  taking  his  departure,  made  careful  preparation 
for  our  coming." 

"It  looks  like  it,  Picard,  and  it  certainly  will  be 
true,  if  you  and  Suzanne  find  the  well-filled  kitchen 
that  you  predict." 

"Never  a  doubt  of  it,  sir.  The  perfect  condition 
in  which  we  find  everything  above-stairs  indicates  that 
we  shall  find  the  same  below." 

He  went  out,  leaving  the  door  open,  according  to 
John's  wish,  and  the  young  American  heard  his  firm 
step  pass  down  the  hall  and  to  the  stairway.  He 
drew  a  deep  sigh  of  content,  and  lying  down  on  a 
red  plush  sofa  rested  for  a  little  while.  It  w.as  luck, 
most  wonderful  luck,  that  he  had  come  into  Chastel, 
and  had  found  Julie  and  her  servants,  and  it  was 
luck,  most  marvelous  luck,  that  this  well-equipped 
hotel  was  here  waiting  for  them. 

He  rose  and  looped  back  the  heavy  lace  curtains 
from  the  windows  which  looked  over  the  river.  But 
the  snow  was  falling  so  fast  that  he  could  not  see 

79 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

far  into  the  dense,  white  cataract.  The  stream  was 
completely  hidden,  and  so,  of  course,  was  the  hospital 
camp  beyond.  Yet  through  all  the  driving  storm  came 
a  faint  moan,  a  light  pulsing  of  the  air,  which  he 
knew  to  be  the  far  throb  of  the  great  guns. 

He  turned  impatiently  away.  Why  couldn't  they 
stop  at  such  a  time?  As  for  himself,  he  would  think 
of  Julie,  and  a  very  handsome,  tanned  young  man 
looking  into  the  glass  over  the  dresser  smiled,  although 
it  was  not  at  his  own  reflection.  Then  he  bathed  his 
face  and  hands,  straightened  out  his  hair  with  the 
small  pocket  comb  and  brush  that  he,  like  most  other 
young  officers,  carried,  and  felt  as  if  he  had  been  made 
over. 

He  hung  up  his  hat  and  heavy  overcoat,  and,  resum 
ing  his  place  on  the  sofa,  waited  until  Julie  should  an 
nounce  her  readiness.  But  she  took  more  than  a  half- 
hour.  He  had  not  expected  anything  else.  Truly  a 
girl  in  her  position  was  entitled  to  at  least  an  hour 
if  she  wanted  it.  So  he  continued  to  wait  with  great 
patience.  Besides  it  was  very  comfortable  there  on 
the  sofa,  and  the  swish  of  the  driving  snow  against 
the  window-panes  was  soothing.  Now  and  then  the 
low  mutter  of  the  guns  came,  but  it  did  not  disturb 
him. 

"I'm  ready  if  you  are,  Mr.  John,"  called  a  clear 
voice,  and  springing  from  the  sofa  he  joined  Julie  in 
the  hall.  She  had  smoothed  her  hair  and  her  Red 
Cross  dress,  and  the  rest  had  restored  all  her  brilliant 
color.  She  was  as  calm,  too,  as  if  they  were  not  alone 
under  the  cloud  of  war,  and  the  hotel  was  full  of 

80 


THE  HOTEL  AT  CHASTEL 

real  guests.  It  was  her  courage  as  much  as  her  beauty 
that  appealed  to  John.  At  no  time  in  all  the  dangers 
through  which  they  had  gone  had  he  seen  her  flinch. 
He  had  heard  much  of  the  courage  shown  by  the 
women  in  the  great  Civil  War  in  his  own  country, 
and  this  maid  of  France  was  proving  anew  that  a  girl 
could  be  as  brave  as  a  man. 

"May  I  take  you  down  to  dinner,  Mademoiselle 
Lannes?"  he  asked. 

"You  may,  Mr.  Scott,"  she  replied,  and  they  walked 
together  down  the  hall  and  the  stairway  into  the 
great  dining-room.  Antoine,  a  napkin  on  his  arm, 
ceremoniously  held  open  the  door  for  them  and  Su 
zanne  showed  them  to  opposite  seats  at  a  small  table 
by  the  window. 

"We  have  found  an  abundance,  Mademoiselle,"  she 
said,  "and  you  shall  be  served  as  if  you  were  real 
guests." 

The  memory  of  that  dinner  will  always  be  vivid 
in  the  mind  of  John  Scott,  though  he  live  to  be  a 
hundred.  Julie  and  he  were  invincible  youth  that 
always  blooms  anew.  War  and  its  horrors  and  dan 
gers  fell  from  them.  Their  sportive  fancy  that  they 
were  guests  in  the  hotel  and  nothing  ailed  the  world 
just  then  held  true.  As  Antoine  and  his  daughter 
served  the  excellent  dinner  that  Suzanne  had  prepared 
these  two  found  amusement  in  everything.  The  bar 
rier  of  race  that  had  been  becoming  more  slender  all  the 
time  melted  quite  away,  and  they  were  boy  and  girl 
looking  into  each  other's  eyes  across  a  narrow  table. 

Picard  and  Suzanne  even  felt  a  touch  of  their  fan- 
Si 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

tastic  spirits.  Suzanne  from  the  north  of  France, 
powerful  in  her  prejudices,  a  Frenchwoman  to  the 
core,  had  viewed  John  from  the  first  with  a  distinct 
hostility,  softening  slowly,  very  slowly,  as  time  passed. 
It  was  not  that  she  disliked  his  voice,  his  figure,  his 
manner,  or  anything  about  him.  He  was  a  brave 
and  true  young  man  and  he  had  rendered  great  service 
to  the  contemporary  house  of  Lannes,  but  he  was 
not  a  Frenchman. 

But  it  seemed  to  Suzanne,  as  she  served  the  courses 
and  watched  with  an  eye  which  nothing  escaped,  that 
Monsieur  Jean  the  Scott  was  becoming  a  Frenchman — 
almost  at  least.  She  had  seen  young  Frenchmen  act 
very  much  as  the  young  American  was  acting.  The 
Frenchman,  too,  would  lean  forward  to  speak  when 
the  girl  to  whom  he  was  speaking  was  as  lovely  as 
her  Mademoiselle  Julie.  No,  that  was  impossible! 
None  other  was  as  lovely  as  her  Mademoiselle  Julie. 
The  glow  that  illumined  his  face  was  just  the  same, 
quite  of  the  best  French  manner,  too.  She  had  seen 
people  who  were  people  and  she  knew.  She  admitted, 
too,  that  he  was  very  handsome,  with  the  slenderness 
of  youth,  but  strong  and  muscular,  and  above  all,  his 
face  was  good. 

Antoine  with  the  napkin  over  his  arm  did  most  of 
the  serving,  and  being  a  man  the  conventional  dif 
ferences  did  not  seem  to  him  so  great  as  they  did 
to  his  daughter. 

"A  handsome  pair,"  he  said  to  her. 

But  while  willing  to  admit  much  to  herself,  Suzanne 
would  not  admit  it  to  her  father. 

82 


THE  HOTEL  AT  CHASTEL 

"Aye,  handsome,"  she  replied  in  a  fierce  whisper, 
"but  not  well  matched.  He  comes  from  an  uncivilized 
continent  on  the  other  side  of  the  world,  and  soon 
he'll  be  going  back  there.  I  would  that  her  brother, 
Monsieur  Philip,  were  here  where  he  ought  to  be. 
Perhaps  he'd  be  foolish,  too,  because  he  likes  the 
strange  American,  but  it  would  relieve  us  of  care." 

"But  America  is  not  a  barbarous  continent,  Su 
zanne,  at  least  some  of  it  is  not.  I  have  heard  that 
in  the  eastern  part  of  their  country  many  of  them 
act  very  much  as  we  do,  and  we  have  seen  those  in 
Paris  who  appear  to  be  quite  civilized.  And  Suzanne, 
often  they  are  rich,  very  rich.  Before  I  left  Paris 
the  second  time  I  made  it  a  point  to  inquire  about  this 
young  man,  and  I  discovered  that  he  had  an  immensely 
wealthy  uncle,  whose  sole  heir  he  is." 

"Ah!"  said  Suzanne,  making  a  long  intake  of  the 
breath.  It  was  easier  than  she  had  thought  for  John 
to  become  French. 

"And  the  fortunes  of  the  house  of  Lannes  are 
moderate  now,  as  you  and  I  know  quite  well,  Suzanne," 
continued  the  wise  Antoine.  "Surely  it  must  have 
occurred  to  Madame  her  mother,  when  our  little 
Mademoiselle  Julie  was  yet  but  a  beautiful  young 
child,  that  she  might  make  a  great  marriage  some 
day.  In  this  world  of  ours,  Suzanne,  many  millions 
of  good  francs  should  not  be  allowed  to  escape  from 
France." 

"It  is  so,  my  father,"  said  Suzanne.  "France  will 
need  numberless  millions  when  this  war  is  over.  Here 
is  the  vinegar  for  the  salad.  Not  too  much.  Made- 

83 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

moiselle  Julie  likes  only  a  little  of  it.  What  fortune 
it  was  to  find  a  hotel  furnished  with  everything !  The 
faint  sighing  sound  that  still  comes  on  the  wind,  is 
it  not  that  of  the  guns,  my  father?" 

"Aye,  Suzanne,  it's  that  of  the  cannon  thundering 
far  away,  but  Mademoiselle  Julie  and  Mr.  Scott  have 
forgotten  all  about  it,  and  it  would  be  a  pity  to  recall 
them  to  it." 

Suzanne  nodded.  For  a  little  space  she,  too,  was 
compelled  to  relax.  The  salad  now  being  complete 
she  served  it  herself,  and  as  she  did  so  she  relaxed 
still  further,  murmuring  that  they  were  just  boy  and 
girl  together,  but  that  they  were  very  handsome.  She 
had  lifted  two  of  the  candles  and  put  them  upon  the 
table,  their  light  touching  Julie's  hair  of  deep  gold  with 
a  ruddy  tint  and  heightening  the  brilliant  color  of  her 
cheeks.  The  heavy  curtains  before  the  window  near 
them  had  been  looped  back  a  little,  and  the  glass  re 
vealed  the  snow  pouring  down  like  a  cataract,  but  they 
did  not  see  it. 

"It's  the  best  dinner  I  ever  ate,"  said  John. 

"Now  you  are  finding  what  capable  people  Antoine 
and  Suzanne  are,"  said  Julie. 

"I  give  them  all  the  credit  due  them,"  said  John, 
as  he  made  mental  reservations. 

"They're  wonderfully  capable,  but  it  will  always 
be  Antoine's  bitter  regret  that  he  does  not  serve  in 
this  war.  If  he  could,  he  would  be  glad  to  represent 
himself  fifteen  years  younger  than  he  really  is." 

"His  chance  will  come.  Again  I  say  to  myself, 
Miss  Julie,  what  luck  I  had  in  arriving  at  Chastel!" 

84 


THE  HOTEL  AT  CHASTEL 

"And  it  was  lucky  for  us,  too.  We  need  your 
courage  and  resource,  Mr.  John.  I  know  that  Philip 
cannot  come  today  or  tonight  and  perhaps  not  to 
morrow." 

"In  that  event,  what  plans  have  you,  Miss  Julie?" 

"To  remain  in  Chastel.  We  have  an  excellent  hotel 
here  at  our  service,  and  as  we're  behind  the  French 
army  we're  in  perfect  safety." 

John  opened  his  lips  to  speak,  but  changed  his  in 
tention  and  did  not  say  what  was  in  his  thought.  He 
said  instead: 

"Antoine  is  looking  unusually  important.  He  is 
going  to  serve  us  wine.  He  has  mineral  water,  too. 
Will  you  take  a  little  of  it  with  your  wine?  It's 
a  white  wine,  and  the  water  improves  it  for  me." 

"Yes,  Mr.  John,  I'll  take  mine  the  same  way." 

Any  dinner,  although  it  may  have  a  flavor  which 
the  food  and  drink  themselves,  no  matter  how  good, 
cannot  give,  must  draw  to  an  end,  and  when  the 
dessert  had  been  served  and  eaten  John  looped  back 
the  heavy  curtain  still  further  and  looked  out  at  the 
white  cataract. 

"The  snowfall  will  certainly  continue  the  rest  of 
the  day,"  he  said,  "and  perhaps  all  through  the  night. 
Suppose  we  go  to  the  smoking-room.  Antoine  and 
Suzanne  must  eat  also.  It's  their  hour  now." 

"That  is  true,  Mr.  John.  The  smoking-room  is  a 
good  place,  but  I'm  afraid  that  you  have  no  cigarette." 

"I  don't  smoke,  but  we  can  talk  there,  of  your 
brother  Philip,  of  your  mother,  safe  now,  of  Paris, 
delivered  as  if  by  a  miracle  from  the  German 

85 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

menace,   and   of  other  good  events   that  have   hap 
pened." 

He  held  open  the  door  of  the  dining-room  and 
when  she  went  out  he  followed  her,  leaving  Picard 
and  Suzanne  to  their  hour. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   REGISTER 

JOHN  and  Julie  in  the  smoking-room  were  not 
lonely.  They  talked  of  many  of  the  events 
he  had  suggested,  and  of  more.  Two  of  the 
windows  looked  out  upon  the  town  instead  of  the 
river,  but  they  could  see  little  there  save  the  towering 
spire  of  the  cathedral  and  the  blank  and  ruined  walls. 
The  snow  was  already  very  deep,  but  the  fall  was 
not  diminishing.  The  gray  gloom  of  coming  twi 
light,  however,  was  beginning  to  show  through  it  and 
once  more  John  returned  silent  thanks  that  he  had 
come  into  Chastel  and  found  Julie.  He  was  serving 
vicariously  for  Philip  who  undoubtedly  had  been  held 
back  by  the  snow. 

"It  will  be  night  soon,"  he  said.  "It's  likely  that 
the  snow  will  cease  in  the  morning,  and  then  I'm 
quite  sure  that  Philip  will  come  for  you.  It  must 
have  been  his  intention  for  you  to  help  at  the  hospital 
camp  below." 

"I  think  so,  too." 

"Then  why  not  go  there  in  the  morning?" 

"And  he  would  miss  me.  He  would  be  searching 
all  Chastel  for  me,  and  perhaps  would  then  go  away, 
believing  that  I  had  not  come." 

87 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

He  was  about  to  say  that  Philip,  missing  her  in 
the  town  would  be  sure  to  look  for  her  in  the  hos 
pital  camp,  but  he  forebore.  It  was  very  pleasant 
for  them  there  in  the  hotel,  and  why  hurry? 

"At  any  rate,  it  would  be  unwise  to  leave  tonight," 
he  said.  "I  think  Suzanne  herself  will  agree  with  me 
in  that  statement.  I'll  ask  her,  as  she'll  be  in  here 
very  soon  now." 

"Why  so  soon?" 

"Because  I've  noticed  that  Suzanne,  besides  being 
your  maid  is  also  your  chaperon." 

"She's  been  that  as  far  back  as  I  can  remember, 
and  I  believe  a  most  excellent  one.  Suzanne,  I  know, 
loves  me." 

"I'm  sure  of  it.     I  don't  blame  her." 

"Look  how  the  snow  is  leaping  up  against  the  win 
dow,  Mr.  John!  Ah,  Suzanne  is  ahead  of  your  pre 
diction!  She's  coming  now." 

Suzanne  stood  in  the  doorway.  John  surmised 
from  her  look  that  her  distrust,  at  least  in  a  mild 
form,  had  sent  her  there. 

"Now  that  your  maid  can  be  with  you,"  he  said, 
"I  think  I'll  take  another  look  at  the  front  of  the 
hotel.  Possibly,  a  new  guest  has  arrived  and  regis 
tered  since  we  last  saw  the  bureau.  Will  you  excuse 
me  for  a  few  minutes,  Miss  Julie?" 

John  was  merely  impelled  by  a  sense  of  duty  to 
take  a  look  about  the  hotel,  not  that  he  expected  to 
find  anything,  but  because  a  good  soldier  should  never 
neglect  his  scouting  operations.  He  went  first  into 
the  little  lobby  at  the  entrance,  where  the  offices  were. 

88 


THE  REGISTER 

Antoine  had  lighted  a  candle  and  left  it  on  the  desk 
of  the  bureau.  Otherwise  he  could  have  seen  little 
in  the  room  as  the  twilight  was  advancing  fast,  and 
the  white  gloom,  made  by  the  falling  snow,  was  shad 
ing  into  gray. 

He  opened  the  front  door.  There  was  nothing  in 
the  street.  The  tower  of  the  cathedral  was  almost 
hidden  by  the  storm  and  the  twilight  and  the  gaunt 
ruins  of  the  houses,  covered  now  with  snow,  looked 
inexpressibly  dreary  and  lonely.  The  dismal  spectacle 
without  heightened  the  bright  gladness  within,  where 
he  and  Julie  had  sat  face  to  face,  only  a  narrow  table 
between,  and  Antoine  and  Suzanne  had  served. 

He  stood  awhile  in  the  open  door,  the  snow  whirl 
ing  now  and  then  against  him,  and  the  faint  mutter 
of  great  guns  coming  at  almost  regular  intervals  to 
his  ears.  He  was  trying  to  decide  what  to  do,  free 
from  any  influence,  however  noble,  which  might  un 
consciously  turn  him  from  his  duty.  His  was  in 
the  nature  of  a  roving  commission,  and  yet  he  must 
not  rove  too  far.  He  decided  that  if  Lannes  did  not 
come  in  the  morning  he  would  insist  upon  Julie  going 
with  him  to  the  hospital  camp.  It  would  be  hard  for 
him  to  go  against  her  wishes,  but  he  was  bound  to 
do  it,  and  easy  in  little  things,  young  John  Scott  had 
a  will  in  greater  affairs  that  could  not  be  overborne. 

But  his  heart  remained  singularly  light.  This  was 
a  good  hotel,  the  Hotel  de  1' Europe.  He  had  not 
found  a  finer  or  better  in  Europe.  Others  might  be 
larger  and  more  magnificent,  but  not  one  of  them 
had  offered  him  such  light  and  hospitality  at  a  time 

89 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

when  they  were  needed  most.  He  went  back  to  the 
bureau,  where  the  register  still  lay  open.  He  had  a 
vague  impression  that  it  was  not  lying  just  as  they 
had  left  it,  that  it  was  turned  much  more  to  one  side, 
and  he  glanced  at  the  names,  which  a  quaint  fancy 
had  made  them  write  on  the  open  page.  His  own 
name  had  been  inscribed  there  last,  and  he  started 
when  he  saw  another  written  beneath  it  in  a  bold 
flowing  hand.  But  the  light  was  so  dim  that  he 
could  not  at  first  make  it  out,  and  despite  all  his 
courage  and  power  of  will  an  uncanny  feeling  seized 
him.  A  chill  ran  along  his  spine,  and  his  hair  lifted 
a  little. 

With  a  cry  of  anger  at  himself,  he  seized  the 
candle  and  held  it  over  the  page.  Then  he  read  the 
new  name : 

Fernand  Weber,  Paris  and  Alsace. 

With  another  exclamation,  but  this  time  of  relief, 
he  put  the  candle  back  upon  the  desk.  Two  beads  of 
perspiration  that  had  formed  upon  his  brow  rolled 
from  it,  and  fell  upon  the  register.  And  Weber  had 
come,  too!  He  was  not  surprised  at  it.  Since  he 
was  Lannes'  messenger,  and  he  was  free  to  come  and 
go  as  he  pleased,  it  was  altogether  likely  that  he 
would  appear  in  Chastel  to  see  the  reunion  of  brother 
and  sister,  and  his  work  well  done.  Moreover,  he 
was  a  man  who  knew.  John  had  often  noticed  that 
Weber's  characteristic  was  knowledge  and  now  he 
would  help  them. 

He  lifted  the  candle  high  above  his  head  and 
90 


THE  REGISTER 

looked  around  the  lobby,  but  there  was  no  sign 
of  the  Alsatian.  He  must  have  gone  outside  again. 
Saying  nothing  to  Julie  or  the  Picards,  John  re 
solved  to  seek  him.  He  needed  his  heavy  overcoat 
and  he  was  able  to  secure  it  unobserved,  because 
Julie  had  gone  up  to  her  room,  and  Antoine  and 
Suzanne  had  disappeared  in  the  back  regions  of  the 
hotel. 

He  had  a  faint  hope  that  when  he  returned  to  the 
lobby  he  might  find  Weber  there,  but  it  was  still 
lone  and  silent,  and  drawing  the  collar  well  about  his 
ears  and  throat  he  thrust  himself  out  into  the  snow. 
Turning  his  back  to  the  driving  flakes  he  walked  east 
ward,  searching  everywhere  through  the  advancing 
twilight.  Weber,  of  course,  knew  of  their  presence 
in  the  hotel  as  he  had  seen  their  names  on  the  register, 
and  the  lighted  candle  on  the  bureau.  It  must  have 
been  a  sudden  alarm  that  called  him  away  so  quickly, 
else  he  would  have  gone  in  at  once,  and  have  spoken 
to  his  friends. 

Unfortunately  the  night  was  coming  fast.  Thick 
gray  gloom  clothed  the  whole  east,  and  but  little  light 
showed  in  the  west.  Looking  back  he  saw  no  light 
in  the  hotel,  but  that  was  to  be  expected,  as  Picard 
would  certainly  loop  the  curtains  heavily  over  the 
windows.  Out  here  in  the  ruined  town  much  of  his 
extraordinary  buoyancy  departed.  The  cold  and  the 
desolation  of  the  world  made  him  shiver  a  little.  He 
thrust  his  hand  into  the  pocket  of  his  overcoat,  and 
closed  it  upon  the  butt  of  the  automatic. 

He  thought  once  of  calling  at  the  top  of  his  voice 
91 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

for  Weber,  but  instinctive  caution  kept  him  from 
doing  so.  Then  he  caught  sight  of  a  slender  moving 
figure  far  ahead  and  feeling  sure  that  it  must  be  the 
Alsatian  he  hurried  forward.  The  figure  moved  on 
as  fast  as  he,  but,  eager  in  pursuit,  he  followed.  It 
was  shadowy  and  slim  at  the  distance,  but  he  knew 
that  it  was  a  human  being,  and  either  it  was  Weber 
or  some  man  of  Chastel  returning  to  see  what  had 
happened  to  his  town.  In  either  event  he  wished  to 
overtake  him. 

But  the  figure  led  him  a  long  chase.  The  man 
seemed  to  be  moving  with  some  definite  purpose,  and 
kept  a  general  course  toward  the  east.  Now  John 
called  out  once  or  twice,  though  not  loudly,  but  the 
stranger  apparently  did  not  hear  him.  Then  he 
pushed  the  pursuit  more  vigorously,  breaking  into  a 
run,  and  just  beyond  the  eastern  rim  of  Chastel,  feel 
ing  sure  now  that  it  was  the  Alsatian,  he  called  once 
more: 

"Weber!    Weber!" 

The  man  paused  and  he  seemed  to  John  to  look 
back,  but  the  snow  drifted  heavily  between  them  just 
then,  and  when  the  cataract  had  passed  he  was  again 
moving  on,  more  slender  and  dim  than  ever.  Beyond 
him  lay  a  little  wood,  torn  and  mangled  by  shells  and 
shrapnel,  as  the  town  had  been,  and  John,  afraid 
that  he  would  lose  him  in  it,  ran  as  fast  as  he 
could  through  the  deep  snow,  calling  once  more,  and 
loudly  now : 

"Weber!     Weber!    Weber!" 

The  figure  stopped  at  the  edge  of  the  wood  and 
92 


THE  REGISTER 

turned.  John,  holding  up  his  hands  to  show  that 
he  meant  no  harm,  continued  his  panting  rush  through 
the  snow.  The  man  stood  upright,  magnified  into 
gigantic  size  by  the  half  light  and  the  storm,  and,  as 
John  came  close,  he  saw  that  in  very  truth  it  was 
Weber.  His  relief  and  joy  were  great.  He  did  not 
know  until  then  how  anxious  he  was  that  the  stranger 
should  prove  to  be  Weber,  in  whose  skill  and  re 
source  he  had  so  much  confidence. 

"Weber!  Weber!"  he  cried  again.  "It's  Scott. 
Don't  you  know  me,  or  am  I  so  clothed  in  snow  that 
nobody  can  recognize  me?" 

"I  recognize  you  now,  Mr.  Scott,"  said  Weber, 
"and  glad  am  I  to  see  that  it's  you.  I  was  afraid 
that  I  was  being  followed  by  a  German  scout.  I  could 
have  disposed  of  him,  but  it  would  not  have  saved 
me  from  his  comrades." 

"Comrades !"  exclaimed  John,  as  he  shook  his  hand. 
"Why,  are  Germans  about?" 

"I  think  they  are.  At  least,  I've  come  out  here 
to  see.  You'll  forgive  my  jest,  Mr.  Scott,  in  writing 
my  name  under  that  of  your  party  on  the  register, 
won't  you?  As  Mademoiselle  Lannes  has  doubtless 
told  you,  I  carried  the  letter  from  her  brother,  direct 
ing  her  to  join  him  in  Chastel,  and,  as  my  duties 
permitted,  I  came  here  also  to  see  that  my  work  was 
effective.  I'd  have  gone  at  once,  but  I  heard  sus 
picious  sounds  in  front  of  the  hotel,  and  I  came  out 
at  once  to  investigate." 

"What  did  you  find?" 

"Near  the  cathedral  I  saw  footprints  which  the 
93 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

falling  snow  had  covered  but  partially.  No,  it's  not 
worth  while  to  go  back  and  investigate  them.  They're 
under  an  inch  of  snow  now." 

"Why  did  you  think  Germans  had  made  them?" 

Weber  opened  his  gloved  hand  and  disclosed  some 
thing  metallic,  a  spike  from  a  German  helmet. 

"This,"  he  said,  "had  become  loosened  and  it  fell 
from  the  cap  of  some  careless  fellow.  It  could  have 
been  there  only  a  few  minutes,  because  the  snow  had 
not  yet  covered  it.  I  think  a  considerable  party  has 
got  behind  the  French  lines  under  cover  of  the  storm 
and  has  passed  through  Chastel." 

"But  they  must  have  gone  on.  Why  would  they 
remain  in  a  ruined  town  like  this?" 

"I  see  no  reason  for  their  doing  so,  unless  to  seek 
shelter  for  a  while  in  some  buildings  not  wholly 
wrecked,  just  as  you  and  Mademoiselle  Lannes'  party 
have  done." 

John  felt  a  throb  of  alarm. 

"Has  the  Hotel  de  1'Europe  escaped  their  observa 
tion?"  he  asked. 

"I  think  so.  I  did  not  notice  any  light  myself 
when  I  approached  it.  But  I  had  been  in  Chastel 
before,  and  of  course  knew  of  the  house  and  its  loca 
tion.  I  went  there  at  once,  hoping  that  it  had  escaped 
destruction,  and  found  my  hopes  justified.  Has 
Mademoiselle  Lannes  heard  anything  from  her 
brother?  I  did  not  see  his  name  on  the  register?" 

"He  has  not  come,  but  the  weather  has  made  it 
impossible.  Aeroplanes  can't  dare  such  snowstorms 
as  this." 

94 


THE  REGISTER 

"That's  true,  but  he's  so  wonderfully  skillful  and 
bold  that  he  might  get  here  in  some  fashion.  Now 
I  think  we  ought  to  make  a  good  search  among  these 
ruins,  Mr.  Scott.  It's  more  than  likely  that  the  Ger 
mans  have  passed  on,  but  there's  a  chance  that  they 
will  linger.  You're  armed,  of  course?" 

"I've  an  automatic  handy." 

"So  have  I.  Suppose  we  take  a  look  in  the  wood 
here,  and  then  we  can  search  among  those  houses 
on  our  right." 

The  snow  and  the  night,  now  at  hand,  hiding  them, 
they  entered  the  little  wood  with  confidence  that  they 
would  fall  into  no  trap.  But  it  was  empty,  and  re 
turning  to  the  edge  of  the  town,  they  scouted  cau 
tiously  all  the  way  around  it,  finding  no  sign  of  either 
a  friend  or  an  enemy. 

"We  alone  hold  Chastel,"  said  John,  "and  I  think 
we'd  better  go  back  to  the  Hotel  de  1' Europe.  I've 
been  away  a  full  two  hours  and  Mademoiselle  Lannes 
may  be  worried  about  my  long  absence,  not  about 
me  personally,  but  because  of  what  it  might  possibly 
signify." 

"That's  our  obvious  course,"  said  Weber,  "and  as 
I've  registered  I'll  sleep  at  the  hotel  also." 

"You'll  certainly  be  welcome,"  said  John,  as  he 
led  the  way  back  to  the  Hotel  de  1' Europe.  But  as 
they  were  on  the  far  side  of  the  town,  and  the  snow 
had  grown  deeper,  it  took  them  another  half-hour 
to  reach  the  building. 

They  stood  just  inside  the  door,  brushing  off  the 
snow  and  shaking  themselves.  John  glanced  toward 

95 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

the  door  of  the  smoking-room  but  it  was  dark  there. 
He  was  somewhat  surprised.  Julie  had  doubtless  gone 
to  bed,  but  Antoine,  the  grim  and  faithful,  would  be 
on  watch. 

"I  expected  Picard  to  meet  us,"  he  said. 

"Probably  they're  all  worn  out,  and  anticipating  no 
danger,  have  gone  to  sleep,"  said  Weber. 

The  candle  was  still  burning  in  the  bureau,  and 
John,  picking  it  up,  hurried  into  the  smoking-room. 
A  sudden,  terrible  fear  had  struck  like  a  dagger  at 
his  heart.  The  silence,  and  the  absence  of  Picard 
filled  him  with  alarm.  In  the  smoking-room  he  held 
the  candle  aloft,  and  then  he  uttered  a  cry. 

The  room  was  in  a  state  of  utter  disorder.  Chairs, 
tables  and  writing-desks  were  overturned,  and  glass 
was  smashed.  It  was  evident  to  both  that  a  mighty 
struggle  had  taken  place  there,  but  no  blood  was  shed. 
John's  keen  mind  inferred  at  once  that  Picard  had 
been  set  upon  without  warning  by  many  men,  but 
they  had  struggled  to  take  him  alive.  Nothing  else 
could  account  for  the  wrecked  furniture,  and  the 
absence  of  red  stains. 

His  fears  now  became  a  horrible  certainty,  and 
without  a  thought  of  Weber,  rushing  up  the  stairway, 
candle  in  hand,  he  knocked  at  the  door  of  Julie's  room, 
the  room  that  she  and  Suzanne  were  to  occupy  to 
gether.  There  was  no  answer.  He  knocked  again, 
loud  and  long.  Still  no  answer  and  his  heart  froze 
within  him.  He  threw  the  door  open  and  rushed 
in,  mechanically  holding  his  candle  aloft,  and,  by  the 
dim  light  it  shed,  looked  about  him,  aghast. 

96 


THE  REGISTER 

This  room  also  was  in  disorder.  A  chair  had  been 
overturned  and  a  mirror  had  been  broken.  There 
had  been  a  struggle  here  too,  and  he  had  no  doubt 
that  Suzanne  had  fought  almost  as  well  as  her  father. 
But  she  and  Julie  were  gone.  To  John  the  room  fairly 
ached  with  emptiness. 

He  put  the  candle  upon  the  dresser,  sat  down, 
dropped  his  face  in  his  hands  and  groaned. 

"Be  of  good  courage,  Mr.  Scott,"  said  Weber.  "No 
great  harm  can  have  happened  to  Mademoiselle 
Lannes." 

"It  was  the  Germans  whom  you  saw.  They  must 
have  come  here  while  we  were  looking  for  them  on 
the  outskirts  of  the  town." 

"It  would  seem  so.  But  don't  be  downhearted,  Mr. 
Scott.  Doubtless  they've  made  captives  of  Made 
moiselle  Lannes  and  her  attendants,  but  they  have  not 
done  any  bodily  harm  even  to  the  big  Picard.  The 
absence  of  all  blood  shows  it.  And  the  Germans 
would  not  injure  a  woman  like  Mademoiselle  Lannes. 
A!  prisoner,  she  is  safe  in  their  hands,  she  can  be 
rescued  as  she  was  once  before  or  more  likely  be  sent 
back  to  her  own  people." 

"But,  Weber,  we  do  not  know  what  will  happen 
in  a  war  like  this,  so  vast,  so  confused,  and  with  pas 
sions  beginning  to  run  so  high.  And  I  was  away  when 
she  was  taken!  I  who  should  have  been  on  guard 
every  moment!  How  can  I  ever  meet  Philip's  look! 
How  can  I  ever  answer  my  own  reproaches!" 

"You  have  nothing  with  which  to  reproach  your 
self,  Mr.  Scott.  You  did  what  anyone  naturally  would 

97 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

have  done  under  such  circumstances.  It  has  been  a 
chance,  the  one  dangerous  possibility  out  of  a  hundred, 
that  has  gone  against  us." 

John  stood  up.  His  despair  was  gone.  All  his 
natural  courage  came  flowing  back  in  a  torrent,  and 
Weber  saw  in  his  eyes  the  glow  of  a  resolution,  stern, 
tenacious  and  singularly  like  that  of  Lannes  himself. 

"I  mean  to  get  her  back,"  he  said  quietly.  "As 
you  said,  the  one  dangerous  chance  in  a  hundred  has 
gone  against  us,  and  to  offset  it  the  one  favorable 
chance  in  a  hundred  must  come  our  way." 

"What  do  you  mean  to  do?" 

"I  don't  know  yet.  But  we  can't  remain  in  this 
hotel.  It's  no  time  to  be  seeking  our  comfort  when 
our  duty  lies  elsewhere." 

He  took  the  candle  again,  holding  it  in  a  hand  that 
was  perfectly  steady,  and  led  the  way  down  the  hall 
and  the  stairway  to  the  little  lobby.  He  did  not 
speak,  because  he  was  trying  to  think  rapidly  and  con 
cisely.  If  he  followed  the  strict  letter  of  command 
he  would  return  that  night  to  the  hospital  camp,  and 
yet  he  could  remain  and  say  that  he  was  delayed  by 
the  enemy.  He  was  willing  to  be  untrue  to  his  military 
duty  for  Julie's  sake,  and  his  conscience  did  not  re 
proach  him. 

"Is  the  snow  diminishing,  Weber?"  he  asked,  as 
they  came  again  into  the  little  lobby. 

"Somewhat,  I  think,  Mr.  Scott,"  replied  Weber  as 
he  went  to  the  window.  "Are  you  thinking  of 
pursuit?" 

"Such  an  idea  has  been  in  my  mind." 
98 


THE  REGISTER 

"But  where  and  how?" 

"My  thought  is  vague  yet" 

"It's  like  an  Arctic  land  outside.  All  footsteps, 
whether  of  men  or  horses,  have  been  hidden  by  the 
snow.  There  is  certainly  no  trail  for  us  to  follow." 

"I  know  it,  Weber,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  Made 
moiselle  Lannes  is  calling  to  me.  She  tells  me  to 
bring  her  back." 

The  Alsatian  glanced  at  John,  but  the  young  man's 
face  was  earnest.  It  was  evident  that  he  believed 
what  he  said. 

"Mademoiselle  Lannes  may  be  calling  to  you,"  he 
said,  "but  how  can  you  go,  and  where?" 

"I  don't  know,"  repeated  John  obstinately,  "but  I 
mean  to  find  her." 

He  walked  irresolutely  back  and  forth  and  his 
eye  fell  upon  the  register  again.  Certainly  it  had  been 
moved  once  more.  He  had  remembered  just  how  it 
lay  after  he  saw  Weber's  name  there,  and  now  it  was 
turned  much  further  to  one  side.  He  snatched  up 
the  candle  and  held  it  over  the  open  pages.  Then  he 
saw  written  in  a  heavy  hand  just  beneath  Weber's 
name: 

Prince  .Karl  of  Auersperg,  Zillenstein,  Tyrol. 
Luitpold  Helmuth  Schwenenger,     " 
Captain  Max  Sanger,  Dantzig,  Prussia. 
Suite  of  His  Highness,  twenty  persons. 

John  understood  thoroughly.  He  uttered  a  fierce 
cry  of  anger  and  grief,  and  Weber  looked  eagerly  over 
his  shoulder. 

99 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"We  know  now  who  has  come,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  we  know,"  exclaimed  John,  "and  I  could  wish 
that  it  had  been  anybody  else !  I  hate  this  man !  To 
me  he  represents  all  that  is  evil  in  the  Old  World, 
the  concentrated  wickedness  of  feudalism  and  I  fear 
him,  though  not  for  myself!  Weber,  I  can't  bear  to 
think  of  Julie  Lannes  in  his  hands!  If  it  were  von 
Arnheim  or  that  young  Kratzek  or  any  normal  Ger 
man  it  would  be  different,  but  this  man,  Auersperg, 
is  not  of  our  time !  He  belongs  to  an  older  and  worse 
age!" 

"He  is  very  hard  and  determined,"  said  Weber. 
"In  my  secret  work  for  France  I  have  seen  him  more 
than  once,  and  I  know  his  character  and  family  his 
tory  thoroughly.  An  immense  pride  of  birth  and 
blood.  Great  courage  and  resolution  and  a  belief  that 
he,  as  a  prince  of  the  old  stock,  entitled  to  what  he 
wishes." 

"Out  of  place  in  our  day." 

"It  may  be.  But  war  favors  his  beliefs,  and  now 
he  holds  the  whip  hand.  The  beautiful  Mademoiselle 
Julie  was  his  prisoner  for  a  short  time  before,  and 
you  will  pardon  me  for  telling  you,  what  you  must 
have  surmised,  Mr.  Scott,  that  her  youth,  her  mar 
velous  beauty  and  her  courage  and  spirit,  so  befitting 
one  who  bears  the  name  of  Lannes,  have  made  a  great 
appeal  to  His  Highness.  That  is  why,  under  the 
cover  of  storm  and  battle,  he  has  carried  her  away." 

"The  monster!" 

"Not  so  bad  as  that,  Mr.  Scott.  There  are  some 
things  that  even  a  prince  would  not  dare  in  this  com- 

100 


THE  REGISTER 

paratively  mild  age  of  ours.  The  Prince  of  Auers- 
perg  is  a  widower  with  no  children.  He  will  offer 
her  a  morganatic  marriage." 

"A  morganatic  marriage!  And  what  is  that? 
Neither  the  one  nor  the  other.  It's  a  disgrace  for 
any  woman!  A  mere  halfway  marriage!" 

"It  would  be  legal,  and  she'd  have  a  title." 

"A  title!    What  would  that  amount  to?" 

"I've  heard  that  you  Americans  are  fond  of  titles, 
and  that  your  rich  women  bring  their  daughters  to 
Europe  to  marry  them!" 

"An  infinitesimal  minority,  Weber.  It's  true  that 
we  have  such  foolish  women,  but  the  rest  of  us  regard 
them  with  contempt." 

"He  could  offer  her  vast  wealth  and  even  as  a  mor 
ganatic  wife  a  great  position." 

"I  think  you're  testing  me,  Weber,  trying  to  see 
what  I  will  say.  Well,  I  will  say  this.  I  don't  believe 
that  Julie  would  accept  Auersperg  on  any  terms,  not 
if  he  were  to  make  her  a  real  princess  of  the  oldest 
princely  house  in  the  world,  not  if  he  were  to  lay 
the  fortunes  of  the  Rothschilds  at  her  feet.  She  is 
of  good  French  republican  stock,  and  she  is  a  thor 
ough  republican  herself." 

Weber  smiled  a  little. 

"Your  faith  in  Mademoiselle  Lannes  is  great,"  he 
said,  "and  I  can  see  that  it  proceeds,  in  part  at  least, 
from  a  just  and  pure  emotion." 

John  reddened.  He  saw  that  he  had  laid  bare  his 
soul,  but  he  was  not  ashamed.  Once  more  he  strength 
ened  his  heart  and  now  he  resolved  upon  a  plan. 

101 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"The  snowfall  is  decreasing  fast,"  he  said.  "Auers- 
perg  and  his  troop  can't  be  far  from  here.  The 
traveling  is  too  hard  for  them  to  travel  swiftly,  even 
if  they  have  automobiles.  I  shall  go  to  the  hospital 
camp,  raise  a  force  and  search  the  country.  The 
commandant  will  give  me  soldiers  readily,  because 
it  would  be  worth  while  to  capture  such  a  man  as 
Auersperg — behind  our  lines,  too." 

"I  don't  wish  to  discourage  you,"  said  Weber,  "but 
I  doubt  whether  you  can  find  him." 

"Maybe  so  and  maybe  not,"  said  John,  and  then  he 
remembered  the  automobile  in  which  Julie  and  the 
Picards  had  come.  Doubtless  it  was  safe  behind  the 
cathedral  where  they  had  left  it,  and  he  could  force 
it  through  the  snow  much  faster  than  he  could  walk. 

"Come!"  he  exclaimed  to  Weber.  "I  know  of  a 
way  to  save  time." 

He  rushed  through  the  snow  to  the  rear  of  the 
cathedral  and  Weber,  without  question,  followed  him. 
The  automobile  was  there,  well  supplied,  and  John 
sprang  into  the  front  seat.  He  was  no  skillful  driver, 
but  he  had  learned  enough  to  manage  a  machine  in 
some  fashion,  and  powerful  emotions  were  driving 
him  on. 

"Up,  Weber!"  he  cried. 

"Which  way  are  you  going?" 

"To  the  hospital  camp,  of  course,  and  we'll  just 
touch  the  top  of  the  high-arched  bridge  over  the  river! 
The  snowfall  is  decreasing  fast,  and  soon  we'll  be  able 
to  see  a  long  distance." 

"We  can  do  so  now,  and  the  moon  is  coming  out, 
102 


THE  REGISTER 

too.  Heavens,  Mr.  Scott,  it's  come  too  soon,  because 
it  shows  us  to  the  enemy!" 

He  pointed  with  a  long  and  shaking  finger.  At  the 
far  end  of  the  street  a  massive  German  column  was 
emerging  into  view.  John  was  startled. 

"These  are  no  raiders !"  he  exclaimed.  "They  must 
have  broken  through  a  portion  of  our  lines  and  are 
attempting  to  flank  other  positions!  But  Chastel's 
hospitality  for  us  is  ended." 

He  put  on  full  speed  and  drove  the  machine  rapidly 
through  the  snow  toward  the  river. 

"We've  another  reason  now  why  we  should  reach 
the  camp !"  he  exclaimed.  "Our  people  must  be  warned 
of  the  presence  of  the  Germans  in  force  in  Chastel!" 

There  was  a  crash  of  rifle  fire  and  bullets  struck 
all  about  them.  Two  or  three  glanced  off  the  side 
of  the  machine  itself,  which  a  moment  or  two  later 
ran  into  a  deep  drift  and  stuck  there,  panting. 

Weber  sprang  out  and  threw  himself  flat  in  the 
snow.  John  instinctively  did  the  same,  and  the  second 
volley  fired  with  better  aim  riddled  the  machine. 
There  was  a  heavy  explosion,  it  turned  on  its  side, 
its  wheels  revolving  for  a  moment  or  two,  and  then 
it  lay  still,  like  a  dying  monster. 

John  sprang  to  his  feet  and  rushed  for  the  shelter 
of  a  building  only  a  few  yards  away.  He  saw  Weber's 
shadow  flitting  by  his  side,  but  when  he  reached  cover 
he  found  that  he  had  lost  him.  Doubtless  in  the  ex 
citement  of  the  moment  the  Alsatian  had  found  hiding 
elsewhere.  He  was  sorry  that  they  had  become  sepa 
rated,  but  Weber  had  a  great  ability  to  take  care  of 

103 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

himself,  and  John  was  quite  sure  that  he  would  escape. 
The  task  that  lay  upon  him  now  was  to  make  good 
his  own  flight. 

The  building,  the  shelter  of  which  he  had  reached, 
was  a  low  brick  structure,  already  much  damaged 
by  shells  and  shrapnel.  But  the  walls  were  thick 
enough  to  protect  him  for  the  moment  from  bullets, 
and  flinging  himself  down  in  the  deep  snow  he 
crouched  in  the  shadow  until  he  could  regain  sufficient 
breath  for  further  flight.  He  heard  more  shots  fired, 
but  evidently  random  triggers  only  had  been  pulled, 
as  no  bullet  struck  near  him. 

The  fall  of  snow  ceased  almost  entirely,  and  the 
moon  grew  brighter  and  brighter.  Chastel  was  a  vast 
white  ruin,  tinted  with  silver,  and  as  such  it  had  an 
uncanny  beauty  of  its  own.  But  John,  thankful  that 
the  snow  was  so  deep,  lay  buried  in  it,  where  it  had 
drifted  against  the  wall.  The  Germans  in  a  town  so 
near  the  French  lines  were  not  likely  to  make  a  dili 
gent  search  for  a  single  man,  and  he  felt  that  he  was 
safe  if  he  did  not  freeze  to  death. 

Peeping  above  the  snow  he  saw  about  fifty  German 
infantrymen  walk  down  the  road  toward  the  river, 
their  heavy  boots  crunching  in  the  snow.  They  were 
stalwart,  ruddy  fellows,  boys  of  twenty-one  or  two — 
he  knew  now  that  boys  did  most  of  the  world's  fight 
ing — and  he  liked  their  simple,  honest  faces.  He  felt 
anew  that  he  did  not  hate  the  German  people;  instead 
he  felt  friendship  for  them,  but  he  did  hate  more  in 
tensely  than  ever  the  medieval  emperors  and  the  little 
group  of  madmen  about  them  who,  almost  without 

104 


THE  REGISTER 

warning,  could  devote  millions  to  slaughter.  An  in 
tense  democrat  in  the  beginning  and  becoming  more 
intense  in  the  furnace  of  war,  he  believed  that  the 
young  German  peasants  coming  down  the  road  would 
have  much  more  chance  before  the  Judgment  Seat 
than  the  princes  and  generals  who  so  lightly  sent  them 
there. 

The  soldiers  went  on  a  little  distance  beyond  the 
edge  of  the  town.  The  cessation  of  the  snow  and  the 
brilliant  moonlight  enabled  them  to  see  far  into  the 
plain  below,  where  the  hospital  camp  lay.  John,  look 
ing  in  the  same  direction,  saw  little  wisps  of  smoke 
rising  above  the  blur  of  the  camp,  but  the  distance 
was  too  great  for  him  to  detect  anything  else. 

The  low  note  of  the  trumpet  called  to  the  young 
troops,  and  they  turned  back  into  the  town.  John 
rose  from  his  covert,  brushed  the  snow  from  his  cloth 
ing,  beat  his  chest  with  his  fists,  and  increased  the 
circulation  which  would  warm  his  body  anew.  Then 
he  stood  against  the  wall  listening.  He  had  no  doubt 
that  the  Germans  would  go  away  presently — there 
was  nothing  to  keep  them  in  Chastel — and  he  made 
a  sudden  shift  in  his  plans.  He  would  go  back  to  the 
Hotel  de  1' Europe,  and  stay  there  until  day.  Lannes 
would  surely  come  in  the  morning.  He  had  no  doubt 
that  at  daybreak  he  would  see  the  lithe  and  sinuous 
figure  of  the  Arrow  shooting  down  from  the  blue 
depths,  and  then  he  and  her  brother  would  go  away 
in  search  of  Julie.  Looking  down  from  the  air  and 
traveling  at  almost  unbelievable  speed,  their  chances 
of  finding  Auersperg's  party  would  be  a  hundred 

105 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

times  better  than  if  he  merely  prowled  along  on  the 
ground. 

The  thought  was  a  happy  one  to  him,  and  again 
there  was  a  great  uprising  of  youth  and  hope.  But 
the  hosts  of  the  air  were  already  at  work  to  defeat 
his  plan.  The  invisible  powers  which  war  could  now 
use  were  ready  when  the  storm  died.  Far  away  the 
wireless  stations  sputtered  and  crackled,  and  words 
carried  on  nothing,  were  passing  directly  over  him. 
They  made  no  mention  of  John  Scott,  but  he  was 
vitally  involved  in  what  they  were  planning.  Down 
under  the  horizon  little  black  dots  that  were  aeroplanes 
had  begun  to  rise  and  to  look  cautiously  over  a  field, 
where  wireless  had  already  told  them  that  something 
was  done.  Further  away  telephone  and  telegraph  wires 
were  humming  with  words,  and  all  the  hosts  of  the 
air  were  concentrating  their  energies  upon  Chastel. 

John,  having  left  the  shelter  of  the  wall,  stepped 
into  the  road,  where  the  snow  had  been  trodden  deep 
by  the  young  Germans.  From  that  point  he  could 
not  see  into  Chastel,  but  a  deep  solemn  note  came  from 
a  far  point  to  the  east.  It  was  the  voice  of  a  great 
gun  carrying  an  immense  distance  in  the  night,  and 
it  struck  like  a  hammer  upon  his  heart.  It  seemed  to 
him  a  warning  that  the  path  that  way,  the  way  Auers- 
perg  had  undoubtedly  gone  with  Julie,  was  barred. 

He  walked  up  the  newly  trodden  road  into  Chastel, 
and  then  he  darted  back  again  to  cover.  He  saw  the 
gleam  of  many  gray  uniforms  and  he  heard  a  clank 
which  he  knew  could  be  made  only  by  the  wheels  of 
cannon.  The  new  forces  of  the  enemy  were  coming 

1 06 


THE  REGISTER 

and  evidently  they  were  now  in  great  strength  in 
Chastel  and  beyond  it.  John's  heart  leaped  in  alarm. 
It  was  a  powerful  flank  movement,  a  daring  and  suc 
cessful  attempt  under  cover  of  the  storm,  and  he 
recognized  at  once  all  his  dangers. 

Keeping  as  well  under  cover  as  he  could,  he 'turned 
and  raced  toward  the  bridge.  He  saw  the  misty  smoke 
hovering  over  the  hospital  camp,  and  he  did  not  be 
lieve  that  any  adequate  force  to  meet  the  Germans 
could  be  found  there,  but  alarms  could  be  sent  in  every 
direction. 

He  expected  that  more  than  one  shot  would  be  sent 
after  his  flying  figure,  but  none  came  and  his  swift 
flight  took  him  far  toward  the  river.  Then  he  saw 
a  long  line  of  dark  forms  before  him  and  the  flashing 
tips  of  bayonets.  Holding  his  arms  high  above  his 
head  he  shouted  in  French  over  and  over  again  that 
he  was  a  friend,  and  then  ran  almost  directly  into 
the  arms  of  a  short  muscular  man  in  the  uniform  of 
a  French  colonel. 

"Bougainville!"  he  cried. 

"Aye,  Mr.  Scott,  it  is  I!  My  regiment  is  here  and 
many  others." 

"Then  look  out.     Chastel  is  full  of  Germans." 

"It  is  for  them  that  we've  come!" 


CHAPTER  VI 
JOHN'S  RESOLVE 

JOHN  stood  weakly,  and  with  heart  palpitating, 
but  it  was  only  for  a  few  moments.  Strength 
poured  back  in  a  full  tide,  and  he  said  to  Bou 
gainville  : 

"You'll  let  me  go  back  with  you?" 

"Of  course,  but  there's  heavy  fighting  ahead.  Mes 
sages  warned  us  in  the  night  that  the  Germans  had 
broken  through,  and  ever  since  the  storm  stopped 
the  wireless  has  been  talking  to  us,  giving  us  the  exact 
details.  We've  been  marching  for  hours.  My  regi 
ment  was  the  first  to  cross  the  river  but,  as  you  see, 
others  are  close  behind." 

"And  you  command  them  all?" 

The  eyes  of  the  former  Apache  of  Montmartre 
glittered. 

"Yes,"  he  replied.  "It  was  an  honor  that  General 
Vaugirard  assigned  to  me.  I  lead  the  vanguard." 

Except  the  radiance  from  his  eyes  he  showed  no 
emotion.  John  noticed  that  his  features  were  cast 
in  the  antique  mold.  The  pallor  and  thinness  of  his 
face  accentuated  his  powerful  features,  and  once  more 
John  was  reminded  of  the  portraits  of  the  young 
Napoleon.  Could  there  be  such  a  thing  as  reincar- 

108 


JOHN'S  RESOLVE 

nation?  But  he  remembered  that  while  a  new  mind 
like  Napoleon's  might  be  possible  a  new  career  like 
Napoleon's  was  not.  Then  all  thoughts  of  any  kind 
upon  the  subject  were  driven  from  his  mind  by  the 
flash  of  firing  that  came  from  Chastel. 

The  rifles  were  rattling  fast,  and  with  them  soon 
came  the  heavy  crash  of  artillei^.  Bougainville  ran 
up  and  down  his  lines,  but,  to  John's  surprise,  he  was 
holding  his  men  back,  rather  than  urging  them  on. 
But  he  quickly  saw  the  reason.  He  heard  the  hissing 
and  shrieking  of  shells  over  his  head  and  he  saw  them 
bursting  in  Chastel.  The  fire  increased  so  fast  and 
became  so  tremendous  in  volume  that  all  the  French 
lay  down  in  the  snow,  and  John  put  his  fingers  in  his 
ears  lest  he  be  deafened. 

He  understood  the  purpose  of  the  French  com 
mander.  It  was  to  hurl  a  continuous  shower  of  steel 
upon  the  enemy,  and  then  when  it  ceased  the  French 
were  to  charge.  Raising  his  head  a  little  he  saw  tha 
ruined  buildings  of  Chastel  melting  away  entirely 
under  the  tremendous  fire  of  the  great  French  field 
guns.  House  after  house  was  springing  into  flames 
and  wall  after  wall  was  crumbling  down  in  frag 
ments.  German  guns  were  replying  fast,  but  their 
position  amid  falling  masonry  was  much  worse  than 
that  of  the  French  in  the  open. 

John  was  lying  in  the  snow  near  Bougainville,  with 
the  shells  from  both  sides  hissing  and  shrieking  in  a 
storm  over  their  heads.  He  was  used  to  being  under 
fire  and  he  knew  that  none  of  these  missiles  was  in 
tended  for  them,  but  he  could  not  restrain  a  quiver 

109 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

of  apprehension  now  and  then,  lest  some  piece  of 
shrapnel,  falling  short,  should  find  him.  It  was  always 
the  shrapnel  with  the  hideous  whine  and  shriek  and 
its  tearing  wound  that  they  dreaded  most.  The  clean 
little  rifle  bullet,  which  if  it  did  not  kill  did  not  hurt 
much,  was  infinitely  more  welcome. 

"How  long  will  1iis  go  on?"  John  asked  of  Bou 
gainville;  his  voice  could  be  heard  as  an  undertone 
in  the  roar  of  the  battle. 

"Not  long,  because  at  present  we  have  the  advan 
tage.  The  Germans  know  that  they're  worse  off  in 
the  town  than  they  would  be  outside.  Our  guns  are 
bringing  tons  and  tons  of  brick  and  stone  about  their 
ears.  Hark  to  our  splendid  artillery,  Mr.  Scott !  See 
how  it  sweeps  Chastel!" 

The  French  fire  always  increasing  in  volume  was 
most  accurate  and  deadly.  The  famous  seventy-five- 
millimeter  gun  was  again  proving  itself  the  most  ter 
rible  of  mobile  field  weapons.  As  walls  fell,  pyramids 
of  fire  shot  up  in  many  places,  casting  a  sinister  glow 
over  the  snowy  earth.  But  above  everything  rose 
the  lofty  and  beautiful  spire  of  the  Gothic  cathedral, 
still  untouched. 

All  the  time  the  moonlight  had  been  steadily  grow 
ing  more  brilliant.  Save  where  the  burning  houses 
and  the  flashing  of  the  cannon  cast  a  red  glow  a  veil 
of  silver  mist,  which  brightened  rather  than  obscured, 
hung  over  the  snow.  John  distinctly  saw  Germans  in 
the  town  and  often,  too,  he  saw  them  fall. 

A  man  with  a  bugle  was  lying  in  the  snow  near 
Bougainville  and  the  little  colonel  reached  over  and 

no 


JOHN'S  RESOLVE 

touched  him.  John  saw  the  soldier  put  the  instrument 
to  his  lips,  as  if  he  would  make  ready,  and  he  knew 
that  an  important  movement  was  at  hand.  He  taut 
ened  his  own  figure  that  he  might  be  ready.  The 
artillery  fire  behind  them  ceased  suddenly.  The  air 
there  had  been  roaring  with  thunder,  and  then  all  at 
once  it  became  as  silent  as  the  grave.  The  bugler 
leaped  to  his  feet  and  blew  a  long  and  mellow  note. 
The  Bougainville  regiment  and  other  regiments  both 
right  and  left  sprang  up  and,  with  a  short,  fierce  shout, 
rushed  upon  the  town.  John,  his  automatic  in  his  hand, 
charged  with  them,  keeping  close  to  Bougainville. 

A  scattering  fire  of  bullets  carried  away  many, 
but  John  knew  that  he  was  not  touched.  Neither  was 
Bougainville,  who,  like  Bonaparte  at  Lodi  or  Arcola, 
was  now  leading  his  men  in  person,  waving  aloft  a 
small  sword,  and  continually  shouting  to  his  children 
to  follow  him.  The  French  fell  fast,  but  they  reached 
the  first  line  of  the  houses,  and  then  they  sent  a  deadly 
hail  of  their  own  bullets  upon  the  defenders. 

Every  street  and  alley  in  Chastel  was  swept  by  the 
fire  of  the  French.  John  heard  above  the  crash  of 
the  rifles  the  incessant  rattling  of  the  machine  guns, 
and  then,  as  they  opened  out,  the  roar  of  the  seventy- 
five-millimeters  added  to  the  terrible  tumult.  The 
Germans,  withdrawing  to  the  far  edge  and  taking 
what  shelter  they  could,  replied,  also  with  cannon, 
machine  guns  and  rifles. 

John  saw  Chastel  already  in  ruins  fairly  melting 
away.  Caught  as  it  must  have  been  in  the  former 
action  it  came  tumbling,  stone  and  brick  walls  and  all 

ill 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

to  the  ground.  Detached  fires  were  burning  at  many 
places,  and  a  great  pyramid  of  flame  leaped  up  from 
a  point  where  the  Hotel  de  1' Europe  stood.  The 
cathedral  alone,  as  if  by  some  singular  chance,  seemed 
to  be  untouched.  The  lofty  Gothic  spire  shot  up  in 
the  silver  moonlight,  and  towered  white  and  peaceful 
over  fighting  Gaul  and  Teuton.  John  looked  up  at  it 
more  than  once,  as  he  fired  a  rifle,  that  he  had  picked 
up,  down  the  street  at  the  fleeting  shadows. 

He  was  filled  with  an  unreasoning  rage.  He  did 
not  hate  any  one  of  the  Germans  who  were  fighting 
on  the  other  side  of  Chastel,  but  the  anger  that  seized 
him  when  he  found  Julie  missing  was  still  heavy  upon 
him.  Before,  whenever  he  had  fired  at  an  enemy 
he  had  usually  felt  a  secret  hope  that  the  bullet  would 
miss,  but  now  he  prayed  that  every  one  would  hit. 
Bougainville  pulled  him  down.  "Not  too  fast!  Not 
too  fast!"  he  said.  "You're  worth  more  alive  than 
dead.  We'll  soon  drive  them  from  Chastel  anyhow. 
The  seventy-fives  are  doing  the  work." 

Bougainville  had  read  the  story  of  the  battle  aright. 
The  great  seventy-five-millimeter  guns  were  too  much 
for  the  German  force.  As  the  houses  of  Chastel  were 
swept  away  the  enemy  on  the  other  side  was  left 
exposed,  and  the  Germans,  despite  their  courage  and 
energy,  were  cut  down  fast.  Aid  for  the  French  was 
coming  continually.  New  regiments  rushed  up  the 
snowy  slopes.  John  heard  a  shout  behind  him,  and 
Captain  Colton  and  the  Strangers  coming  from  afar 
rushed  into  the  battle.  As  they  were  about  to  swing 
past  John  joined  Wharton  and  Carstairs. 

112 


JOHN'S  RESOLVE 

"We  thought  you  were  gone  forever  this  time," 
shouted  Carstairs.  "There  seems  to  be  a  special  Provi 
dence  for  you  Yankees !" 

"It's  skill,  not  luck,  that  counts !"  exclaimed  Whar- 
ton. 

John  joined  them,  and  Bougainville,  taking  com 
mand  of  the  whole  battle,  directed  the  charge  upon 
the  town.  The  spirits  of  the  French  were  at  the  high 
est,  and  shouting  tremendously  they  soon  passed 
through  Chastel  and  drove  the  enemy  beyond  it,  head 
long  into  the  forest.  Having  superior  numbers  now, 
a  better  knowledge  of  the  ground  and  led  by  a  man 
of  genius  like  Bougainville,  they  soon  broke  up  the 
German  force,  capturing  a  part  of  it,  while  the  rest 
fleeing  eastward,  burst  through  the  French  trenches, 
and,  after  further  heavy  losses,  succeeded  in  getting 
back  to  the  main  German  army. 

The  pursuit  was  carried  on  some  time  by  the 
French  cavalry  which  had  appeared  as  the  last  charge 
was  made,  but  Bougainville,  with  the  clear  note  of 
trumpets,  recalled  the  infantry.  He  was  satisfied  with 
the  victory  that  had  been  won  in  Chastel,  and  he 
did  not  wish  to  exhaust  his  troops  with  vain  rushes 
in  the  deep  snow. 

The  Strangers  halted  with  the  rest,  and  John,  com 
ing  out  of  the  red  rage  that  had  possessed  his  soul, 
saw  that  Captain  Colton  was  uninjured  and  that  Car- 
stairs  and  Wharton,  who  stood  near  him,  had  only 
scratches. 

"Grazed  four  times,"  said  Carstairs  happily.  "The 
bullets  knew  a  good  man  when  they  saw  him,  and 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

turned  aside  just  in  time  to  give  him  slight  but  hon 
orable  wounds." 

"Two  scratches  for  me,  too,"  said  Wharton. 

"Which  proves  what  I  told  you,"  said  Carstairs, 
"that  it  was  often  luck,  not  skill,  that  saved  you." 

"Both  count,"  said  Captain  Colton,  tersely.  "Na 
poleon  had  immense  skill.  Suppose  bad  luck  had  sent 
a  bullet  into  his  heart  in  his  first  battle  in  Italy.  Would 
have  been  forgotten  in  a  day.  And  if  no  bullet  had 
ever  touched  him,  wouldn't  have  amounted  to  much, 
without  immense  skill." 

"Do  we  go  back  to  Chastel,  sir?"  asked  John. 

"Back  to  what's  left  of  it.  Not  much,  I  think. 
See  nothing  but  Gothic  tower!" 

John  looked  up.  The  great  Gothic  spire  hung  over 
a  scene  of  desolation  and  ruin,  now  complete  save  for 
the  cathedral  itself.  Otherwise  not  an  undamaged 
house  remained  in  Chastel.  Fires  still  smoldered, 
and  the  largest  of  them  all,  marked  where  the  Hotel 
de  1'Europe  had  stood.  The  firing  had  ceased  save 
for  a  distant  murmur  where  the  cavalry  still  pursued, 
and  John  choked  as  he  gazed  at  ruined  Chastel.  He 
looked  most  often  at  the  burning  Hotel  de  1' Europe 
where  he  had  spent  such  happy  hours,  the  happiest, 
in  truth,  of  his  life,  hours  that  glowed.  He  could 
see  as  vividly,  as  if  it  were  all  real  again,  Julie  and 
himself  at  the  little  table  by  the  window,  and  Antoine 
and  Suzanne  serving.  He  choked,  and  for  a  little 
while  he  could  not  reply  to  Wharton's  question: 

"Why,  Scott,  what's  struck  you?  You  look  as  if 
you  had  lost  your  last  friend!" 

114 


JOHN'S  RESOLVE 

"Wharton,"  replied  John  at  last,  "I  found  Made 
moiselle  Lannes  and  her  servants,  Antoine  and  Su 
zanne  Picard  here,  come  as  requested  by  letter,  to 
meet  her  brother  Philip.  I  found  them  in  the 
cathedral  waiting,  and  we  went  to  the  Hotel  de 
1'Europe,  where  she  and  I  dined  together." 

"Good  Heavens!  You  don't  mean  to  say  she  was 
there  under  the  awful  fire  of  our  guns?" 

"No,  else  I  should  not  have  been  with  you.  Weber, 
the  trusty  Alsatian,  of  whom  you  know,  came  to  us 
in  the  town.  It  was  he  who  had  borne  the  letter  from 
Philip  to  Mademoiselle  Julie.  We  thought  we  saw 
Germans  in  the  outskirts  of  Chastel.  We  did  not 
find  any,  but  when  we  came  back  to  the  Hotel  de 
1'Europe,  where  we  left  them,  Mademoiselle  Julie  and 
her  servants,  the  Picards,  were  gone." 

"Perhaps  they  were  alarmed  by  the  German  advance 
and  have  taken  refuge  somewhere  in  the  woods.  If 
so,  it  will  be  easy  to  find  them,  Scott." 

"No,  they're  not  there.  They're  in  the  hands  of 
the  enemy.  I  shouldn't  mind  it  so  much  if  she  were 
merely  a  captive  of  the  Germans,  but  that  man  Auers- 
perg  has  taken  her  again." 

"How  can  you  possibly  know  that  to  be  true,  Scott  ?" 

Then  John  told  the  story  of  the  register,  and  of  the 
successive  writing  of  the  names.  Colton  heard  him, 
too,  and  his  face  was  very  grave. 

"It's  a  pity  Bougainville  couldn't  have  come  earlier," 
he  said.  "We  might  not  only  have  saved  Mademoiselle 
Julie  but  have  captured  this  Prince  of  Auersperg  as 
well.  Then  we  should  indeed  have  had  a  prize.  But 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

the  wireless  could  not  talk  through  all  the  storm  and 
we  had  no  warning  of  the  German  movement  until 
the  snowfall  died  down." 

"What  are  we  going  to  do?"  asked  John. 

"We'll  stay  on  the  site  of  Chastel  at  least  until 
morning,  which  can't  be  far  away." 

John  looked  at  his  watch. 

"It  will  be  daylight  in  two  hours,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  by  the  way,"  exclaimed  Carstairs,  "what  be 
came  of  Weber?" 

"We  were  making  our  escape  in  Mademoiselle 
Lannes'  automobile  when  we  ran  into  a  detachment 
of  Germans.  Our  car  was  riddled;  we  both  dodged 
for  shelter  and  that  was  the  last  I  saw  of  him." 

"He  escaped.  I  wager  a  pound  to  a  shilling  on  it. 
The  Alsatian  not  only  has  borrowed  the  nine  lives 
of  a  cat,  but  he  has  nine  original  ones  of  his  own." 

"I  feel  sure,  like  you,  Carstairs,  that  he  has  escaped 
and  I  certainly  hope  so.  He's  a  clever  man  who  has 
the  faculty  of  turning  up  at  the  right  time." 

"It  promises  to  be  a  clear  dawn,"  said  Wharton. 
"You  may  not  believe  it,  Carstairs,  but  I'm  a  fine 
weather  prophet  in  my  own  country,  and  if  I  can  do 
so  well  there  I  ought  at  least  to  do  as  well  with  the 
low-grade  weather  supplied  by  an  inferior  continent 
like  Europe." 

"It's  no  wonder  they  call  you  a  mad  Yankee,  Whar 
ton.  Low-grade  weather!  Have  you  any  fog  that 
can  equal  our  London  variety?" 

"It's  quality,  not  quantity  that  counts  with  a  su 
perior,  intellectual  people  such  as  we  are." 

116 


JOHN'S  RESOLVE 

"Intellect!  It's  luck!  I  don't  remember  his  name, 
but  he  was  a  discerning  Frenchman,  who  said  that 
a  special  Providence  watched  over  drunken  men  and 
Americans." 

"A  special  Providence  watches  over  only  those  who 
have  superior  merit." 

"I  think,"  said  John,  "that  I'm  bound  to  take  a  little 
rest,  if  Captain  Colton  will  let  me." 

"Oh,  he'll  let  you  if  you  ask  him,"  said  Carstairs. 
"You're  a  particular  favorite  of  his,  although  I  can't 
understand  why.  Wharton  and  I  are  much  more 
deserving.  But  you  do  look  all  played  out,  old  fellow." 

John  had  sustained  a  sudden  collapse.  Intense 
emotion  and  immense  physical  exertion,  continued  so 
long,  could  be  endured  no  longer,  and  he  felt  as  if 
he  would  fall  in  the  snow.  But  a  portion  of  the 
victorious  force  was  to  remain  at  Chastel,  and  some 
tents  had  been  pitched.  Captain  Colton  readily  gave 
John  permission  to  enter  one  of  them  and  roll  himself 
in  the  blankets. 

It  was  still  an  hour  of  dawn,  but  the  night  was 
light.  Fires  yet  burned  here  and  there  in  Chastel, 
where  not  a  single  building  now  stood  unharmed,  save 
the  cathedral.  The  mutter  of  the  cannon  came  from 
the  vast  front  both  to  east  and  to  west. 

John  looked  into  the  great  misty  world  and  his 
face  was  turned  toward  the  east.  He  had  no  doubt 
that  Auersperg  had  gone  in  that  direction  with  Julie, 
and  he  meant  to  find  her.  But  how?  He  prayed 
silently  for  the  coming  of  Lannes  with  the  Arrow. 
For  such  a  search  as  this  the  swift  aeroplane  could 

117 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

serve  while  one  might  plod  in  vain  over  the  ground. 
Lannes  would  come  before  the  next  night !  He  must 
come!  If  he  had  made  an  appointment  for  such  a 
meeting  nothing  could  delay  him  more  than  a  day. 

He  did  not  have  any  great  fear  for  Julie's  present 
safety.  The  modern  civilized  world  had  suddenly 
broken  loose  from  many  of  its  anchors,  but  so  con 
spicuous  a  man  as  Auersperg  could  not  stain  his  name 
with  a  deed  that  would  brand  him  throughout  Europe. 
Weber,  however,  had  spoken  of  a  morganatic  mar 
riage,  and  fearful  pressure  might  be  brought  to  bear. 
A  country  so  energetic  and  advanced  as  Germany 
had  clung,  nevertheless,  to  many  repellent  principles 
of  medievalism.  A  nation  listened  with  calm  accept 
ance  and  complacency,  while  its  Kaiser  claimed  a  part 
nership,  and  not  altogether  a  junior  partnership  either, 
with  the  Almighty.  Much  could  be  forgiven  to  an 
Auersperg,  the  head  of  a  house  that  had  been  princely 
more  than  a  thousand  years.  John  shuddered. 

He  had  not  gone  to  the  tent  at  once  as  he  intended. 
His  nerves  were  yet  leaping  and  he  knew  now  that 
they  must  become  quiet  before  he  could  sleep.  Men 
were  moving  about  him,  carrying  the  wounded  or 
helping  with  the  camp,  but  they  were  only  misty 
forms  in  the  white  gloom.  Looking  again  toward 
the  east  he  saw  a  silver  bar  appear  just  below  the 
horizon.  He  knew  it  was  the  bright  vanguard  that 
heralded  the  coming  sun,  and  his  imaginative,  sus 
ceptible  mind  beheld  in  it  once  more  an  omen.  It 
beckoned  him  toward  the  east,  and  hope  rose  strong 
in  his  heart. 

118 


JOHN'S  RESOLVE 

"Wharton,"  he  said,  "I  suppose  we'll  stay  awhile 
in  Chastel." 

"So  I  hear.     Until  noon  at  least." 

"Then  you  wake  me  three  hours  from  now.  It  will 
be  enough  sleep  at  such  a  time,  and  I  want  to  be 
up  when  Lannes  comes.  You  promise?" 

"Certainly,  Scott,  I'll  do  it,  though  you'll  probably 
swear  at  me  for  bothering  you.  Still,  I'm  ready  to 
do  any  unpleasant  duty  for  a  friend  when  he  asks  it." 

John  laughed,  went  into  the  tent,  rolled  himself  in 
the  blankets  and  in  a  minute  was  fast  asleep.  In 
another  minute,  as  it  seemed,  Wharton  was  pulling 
vigorously  at  his  shoulder. 

"Get  up,  Scott !"  exclaimed  Wharton.  "Your  three 
hours,  and  a  half  hour's  grace  that  I  allowed  you, 
have  passed.  Didn't  I  tell  you  that  you'd  be  un 
grateful  and  that  you'd  fight  against  me  for  ful 
filling  your  request !  Open  your  eyes,  man,  and  stand 
up!" 

John  sprang  to  his  feet,  shook  his  head  violently 
several  times,  and  then  was  wide  awake. 

"Thanks,  Wharton,"  he  said.  "You're  a  true 
friend  but  you're  a  wretched  reckoner  of  time." 

"How  so?" 

"You  said  it  was  three  hours  and  a  half  when  in 
reality  it  was  only  three  minutes  and  a  half." 

But  a  clear  wintry  sun  was  shining  in  at  the  door 
of  the  tent,  and  he  saw  its  gold  across  the  snow. 
Beyond  was  a  kitchen  automobile  at  which  men  were 
obtaining  coffee  and  food. 

"Has  Lannes  come?"  asked  John. 
119 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"Not  yet,  but  of  course  he'll  be  here  soon;  by  noon, 
I  fancy." 

John  went  out  and  took  his  breakfast  with  his 
comrades  of  the  Strangers.  The  morning  was  un 
commonly  bright.  There  was  not  a  trace  of  cloud 
in  the  heavens,  which  had  turned  to  the  soft,  velvety 
blue  that  one  sometimes  sees  in  winter,  and  which 
can  make  a  man  fancy  that  it  is  summer  when  he 
looks  up,  rather  than  winter  when  he  looks  down. 

While  John  ate  and  drank,  he  continually  scanned 
the  skies  looking  for  the  coming  of  the  Arrow.  He 
saw  aeroplanes  hovering  here  and  there  over  the 
French  and  German  lines,  but  none  coming  toward 
Chastel. 

He  had  expected,  too,  that  Weber  might  return  in 
the  morning,  but  he  did  not  reappear  and  John  felt 
a  distinct  disappointment.  Many  had  been  killed,  but 
Wharton  and  Carstairs  had  reported  that  no  body 
had  resembled  Weber's.  Then  it  was  certain  that  he 
had  not  fallen.  Perhaps  the  Germans  had  driven  him 
ahead  -of  them,  and  he  would  rejoin  the  French  at 
some  distant  point. 

The  morning  passed,  slow  and  bright,  but  it  did 
not  bring  Lannes.  General  Vaugirard  himself  came 
about  noon,  a  huge  puffing  man  in  a  huge  puffing 
automobile.  He  cast  an  approving  eye  over  Bougain 
ville's  work,  and  puffing  his  cheeks  still  wider  whistled 
a  low,  musical  note. 

"It  could  not  have  been  done  better,"  he  said.  Then 
he  caught  sight  of  John  and  exclaimed : 

"Ah,  here  is  our  young  American,  he  who  has 
1 20 


JOHN'S  RESOLVE 

been  transformed  into  a  good  Frenchman!  Glad  am 
I  to  see  you  alive  and  unhurt,  but  I  bring  you  news 
which  is  unpleasant.  Ah,  well,  such  is  life!  It  must 
be  expected  in  a  war  like  this." 

Alarm  leaped  up  in  John's  heart.  He  felt  instinc 
tively  that  it  concerned  Lannes!  Was  he  dead?  But 
he  steadied  his  voice  and  said: 

"May  I  ask  what  it  is,  General?" 

"That  young  friend  of  yours  and  great  servant 
of  his  nation,  Philip  Lannes,  the  famous  aviator.  He 
has  been  wounded.  No,  don't  be  alarmed,  it's  not 
mortal,  but  it  will  keep  him  in  hospital  for  some 
time.  It  happened  two  days  ago,  nearly  a  hundred 
miles  west  of  here.  He  had  just  landed  from  his 
aeroplane,  and  he  was  fired  at  by  some  German  skir 
mishers  hidden  in  a  wood.  Fortunately  French  cav 
alry  were  near  and  drove  off  the  Germans.  Lannes 
is  so  young  and  so  healthy  that  his  recovery  will  be 
complete,  though  slow." 

"What  a  misfortune  at  such  a  time!"  exclaimed 
John. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  'at  such  a  time'  ?" 

Then  John  related  the  presence  of  Julie  Lannes 
in  Chastel  and  the  manner  of  her  capture  by  Auers- 
perg.  He  told,  too,  why  she  had  come  there. 

General  Vaugirard  puffed  out  his  huge  cheeks  and 
whistled  a  note  or  two. 

"I  can't  understand  why  Lannes  should  have  wanted 
her  to  come  to  such  an  exposed  place,"  he  said. 
"But  youth  is  daring  and  doesn't  always  count  the 
risks." 

121 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

Youth  was  daring  and  John  resolved  that  he  would 
help  to  prove  it. 

"General,"  he  said,  "could  I  ask  your  aid  in  a 
little  matter  that  concerns  me?" 

"If  it  is  not  to  betray  our  army  to  the  Germans 
I  think  you  can." 

"I  want  you  to  help  me  to  become  a  spy.  I'll  make 
the  request  to  Captain  Colton,  and  then,  if  it's  indorsed, 
I'll  go  eastward  and  see  what  I  can  find  out  about  the 
Germans." 

"But  I  understood  that  she  was  not  a  German." 

John  reddened  from  brow  to  chin. 

"I  admit  that  much,"  he  said,  "but  at  the  same 
time  I  intend  to  serve  France  all  I  can.  I  might  be 
of  more  help  that  way  than  as  a  mere  minor  officer 
in  the  trenches." 

"If  you're  successful,  yes;  if  caught,  all's  lost.  Hard 
trade,  that  of  spy." 

"But  I  want  to  go,  sir.  I  never  wanted  to  do 
anything  so  much  before  in  my  life.  You'll  help  me, 
won't  you?" 

"But  how  can  you  go  among  the  Germans?  Your 
German  is  not  the  best  in  the  world." 

"It's  better  than  you  think.  I've  been  devoting 
most  of  my  leisure  to  the  study  of  it  in  the  last  six 
months.  Besides  there  are  subjects  of  Germany  who 
do  not  speak  German  at  all.  I  shall  claim  to  be  a 
native  of  French  Lorraine.  I  learned  French  in  my 
infancy  and  I  speak  it  not  like  an  American  or  an 
Englishman  but  like  a  Frenchman." 

"That  helps  a  lot.  What's  to  be  your  new  name?" 
122 


JOHN'S  RESOLVE 

It  was  not  a  matter  to  which  John  had  given  any 
thought,  but  as  he  glanced  at  the  ruined  town  the 
question  solved  itself. 

"Chastel,  Castel,"  he  said.  "I  shall  drop  the  'h' 
and  call  myself  Jean  Louis  Castel,  born  in  French 
Lorraine  in  1893,  after  that  region  had  enjoyed  for 
more  than  twenty  years  the  glorious  benefits  of  Ger 
man  military  rule." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  General.  "Now  go  and  see 
Captain  Colton." 

Captain  Colton's  lips  twisted  into  a  crooked  smile 
when  he  heard  John.  His  glance  was  a  mingling  of 
sympathy  and  apprehension.  He  knew  the  great  dan 
gers  of  the  quest,  but  he  liked  John  Scott  and  he  could 
understand. 

"John,"  he  said,  calling  him  by  his  first  name,  "I 
would  not  send  anybody  upon  such  an  errand  as  yours. 
You  recognize  the  fact  that  the  chances  are  about 
ten  to  one  you'll  find  a  bullet  at  the  end  of  your 
search." 

"I  think  I'll  get  through." 

"It's  a  good  thing  to  hope.  I  think  I  can  procure 
this  commission  for  you  from  General  Vaugirard. 
But  we'll  go  to  him  at  once.  We'll  not  let  the  grass 
grow — or  rather,  the  snow  melt  under  our  feet  while 
we're  about  it." 

John  did  not  tell  him  that  he  had  already  spoken 
to  the  general,  as  he  wished  the  whole  proceeding  to 
be  in  perfect  order. 

General  Vaugirard  was  by  a  fire  which  had  been 
built  in  the  Place  near  the  shattered  fountain. 

123 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

Wrapped  in  a  huge  overcoat  he  looked  truly  gigantic 
as  he  walked  up  and  down  thinking. 

"Let  me  speak  with  him  first,"  said  Captain  Colton. 

John  held  back  and  saw  the  two  talk  together 
earnestly  a  minute  or  two.  Then  the  big  general 
beckoned  to  him  and  as  John  approached  he  said : 

"The  request  that  you  have  made  through  Captain 
Colton  is  granted.  In  a  war  like  this  is  may  be  the 
good  fortune  of  a  spy  to  render  a  very  great  service." 

John  bowed. 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  he  said  simply. 

"I  understand  that  you  wish  to  start  at  once,"  con 
tinued  the  general.  "Dress  like  a  peasant,  and  look 
with  all  your  eyes  and  listen  with  all  your  ears.  And 
don't  forget  while  you're  seeking  the  enemy's  secrets 
that  all  France  loves  a  lover." 

John  flushed  a  deep  red,  and  Vaugirard  and  Colton 
laughed.  The  general  put  his  hand  in  the  most  kindly 
fashion  upon  John's  shoulder. 

"You  are  one  of  the  bravest  of  my  children,"  he 
said,  "and  I  have  an  affection  for  thee,  thou  stalwart 
'American  youth.  See  to  it  that  thou  comest  back 
again.  Thy  hand,  Monsieur  Jean  Castel,  for  such, 
I  hear,  is  to  be  your  name." 

John's  hand  was  engulfed  in  the  huge  palm.  Gen 
eral  Vaugirard  gave  it  a  great  shake  and  turned  away. 
Then  John  and  Captain  Colton  walked  back  to  the 
place  that  had  been  allotted  to  the  Strangers,  where 
it  soon  became  known  to  Wharton  and  Carstairs  that 
their  comrade  would  depart  that  night  upon  a  quest, 
seemingly  hopeless.  They  drew  John  aside: 
i  124 


JOHN'S  RESOLVE 

"Scott,"  said  Carstairs,  "are  you  really  going?  It's 
certain  death,  you  know." 

"A  German  bullet  or  a  German  rope,"  said  Whar- 
ton,  "and  you'll  never  be  seen  or  heard  of  again. 
It's  an  ignominious  end." 

"As  surely  as  the  night  comes  I'm  going,"  replied 
John  to  both  questions.  "I  understand  the  risks  and 
I  take  them." 

"I  knew  the  answer  before  I  asked  you,"  said  Car- 
stairs.  "You  Americans  are  really  our  children, 
though  sometimes  you're  not  very  respectful  to  your 
parents.  They  call  us  prosaic,  but  I  think  we're  really 
the  most  romantic  of  the  races." 

"It's  proved,"  said  Wharton,  "when  sober  fellows 
like  Scott  go  away  on  such  errands.  I  think  you'll 
win  through,  Scott,  in  the  way  you  wish." 

John  knew  that  the  good  wishes  of  these  two 
friends,  so  undemonstrative  and  so  true,  would  follow 
him  all  the  time  and  he  choked  a  little.  But  when 
the  lump  in  his  throat  was  gone  he  spoke  casually,  as 
if  he  were  not  venturing  into  a  region  that  was  sown 
thick  and  deep  with  dragon's  teeth. 

At  the  advice  of  Captain  Colton  he  slept  several 
hours  more  that  afternoon,  and  in  the  darkest  part 
of  the  night,  clothed  simply  like  a  peasant,  but  carry 
ing  a  passport  that  would  take  him  through  the  French 
lines,  he  said  good-by  to  his  friends,  and,  taking  his 
life  in  his  hands,  departed  upon  his  mission.  Lest 
he  be  taken  for  a  franc-tireur  he  was  entirely  unarmed, 
and  he  wore  a  thick  blue  blouse,  gray  trousers  equally 
thick,  and  heavy  boots.  He  also  carried,  carefully 

125 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

concealed  about  his  person,  a  supply  of  gold  and  Ger 
man  notes,  although  there  would  not  be -much  use  for 
money  in  that  region  of  the  dragon's  teeth  into  which 
he  was  venturing. 

He  re-crossed  the  little  river  on  the  same  high- 
arched  bridge  by  which  he  had  come,  skirted  the  hos 
pital  camp,  and  then  bore  off  toward  the  east.  It 
was  past  midnight,  the  skies  were  free  from  snow, 
but  there  were  many  low,  hovering  clouds  which  suited 
his  purpose.  He  was  still  back  of  the  French  lines, 
but  his  pass  would  take  him  through  them  at  any 
time  he  wished.  The  problem  was  how  to  pass  those 
of  Germany,  and  the  difficulty  was  very  great,  because 
for  a  long  distance  here  the  hostile  trenches  were  only 
three  or  four  hundred  yards  apart. 

He  discerned  to  the  eastward  a  dim  line  of  hills 
which,  as  he  knew,  rose  farther  on  into  mountains, 
and  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  might  find  it  easier  to 
get  through  in  rough  country  than  in  the  region  of 
low,  rounded  hills,  where  he  now  stood.  He  carried 
a  knapsack,  well  filled  with  food,  a  blanket  roll,  and 
now  he  resolved  to  push  on  all  night  and  most  of 
the  following  day,  before  passing  the  French  lines. 

Keeping  a  watchful  eye  he  pursued  his  steady  course 
across  the  hills.  The  depth  of  the  snow  impeded 
speed,  but  action  kept  his  heart  strong.  The  terrible 
waiting  was  over,  he  was  at  least  trying  to  do  some 
thing.  Fresh  interests  sprang  up  also.  It  was  a 
strange,  white,  misty  world  upon  which  he  looked. 
He  traveled  through  utter  desolation,  but  to  the  east, 
inclining  to  the  north  was  a  limitless  double  line,  which 

126 


JOHN'S  RESOLVE 

now  and  then  broke  into  flashes  of  flame,  while  from 
points  further  back  came  that  mutter  of  the  big  guns 
like  the  groanings  of  huge,  primeval  monsters. 

It  seemed  to  John  barbarous  and  savage  to  the  last 
degree.  He  knew  that  he  was  in  one  of  the  most 
densely  populated  and  highly  cultivated  portions  of  the 
world,  but  the  dragon's  teeth  were  coming  up  more 
thickly  even  than  in  the  time  of  old  Cadmus. 

He  walked  until  it  was  almost  morning  without 
seeing  a  human  being,  and  then,  the  snow  having 
dragged  on  him  so  heavily,  he  felt  that  he  must  take 
rest.  Crawling  into  a  hole  in  the  snow  that  he  scraped 
out  under  a  ledge,  he  folded  himself  between  his 
blankets  and  went  to  sleep. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    PURSUIT 

JOHN  SCOTT  would  not  perhaps  have  slept  so 
well  in  a  hole  in  the  snow  if  he  had  not  been 
inured  to  life  in  a  trench,  reeking  in  turn  with 
mud,  slush,  ice  and  water.  His  present  quarters  were 
a  vast  improvement,  dry  and  warm  with  the  aid  of 
the  blankets,  and  he  had  crisp  fresh  air  in  abundance 
to  breathe.  Hence  in  such  a  place  in  the  Inn  of  the 
Hedge  and  the  Snow  he  slept  longer  than  he  had 
intended. 

His  will  to  awake  at  the  rising  of  the  sun  was  not 
sufficient.  The  soothing  influence  of  warmth  and  the 
first  real  physical  relaxation  that  he  had  enjoyed  in 
three  or  four  days  overpowered  his  senses,  and  kept 
him  slumbering  on  peacefully  long  after  the  early 
silver  of  the  rising  sun  had  turned  to  gold  on  the 
snow. 

He  had  dug  so  deep  a  hole  and  he  lay  so  close 
under  the  hedge  that  even  a  vigilant  scout  looking 
for  an  enemy  might  have  passed  within  a  dozen  feet 
of  him  without  seeing  him.  Another  drift  of  snow 
falling  after  he  had  gone  to  sleep  had  covered  up 
his  footsteps  and  he  was  as  securely  hidden  as 
if  he  had  been  a  hundred  miles,  instead  of  only  a 

128 


THE  PURSUIT 

scant  two  miles,  from  the  double  French  and  German 
line. 

No  human  being  noticed  his  presence.  A'  small 
brown  bird,  much  like  the  snowbird  of  his  own  land, 
hopped  near,  detected  the  human  presence  and  then 
hopped  deliberately  away.  Nobody  was  in  the  snowy 
fields.  They  were  within  range  of  the  great  German 
guns,  and  the  peasants  were  gone.  Had  John  been 
willing  to  search  longer  he  could  easily  have  found 
an  abandoned  house  for  shelter.  As  he  had  made 
mental  notes  before,  Europe  was  now  full  of  aban 
doned  houses.  In  some  regions  rents  must  be  extraor 
dinarily  low. 

While  he  slept,  firing  was  resumed  at  points  on 
the  long  double  line.  Rifles  flashed,  and  incautious 
heads  or  hands  were  struck,  and  somewhere  or  other 
the  cannon  were  always  muttering.  But  it  was  all 
in  the  day's  work.  Months  of  it  had  made  his  whole 
system  physical  and  mental  so  used  to  it  that  it  did 
not  awaken  him  now. 

Nevertheless  the  hosts  of  the  air  were  uncommonly 
active  while  he  slept.  The  wireless,  sputtering  and 
crackling,  was  carrying  the  news  from  general  to 
general  that  a  smart  little  action  had  been  fought  at 
Chastel,  where  another  smart  little  action  had  been 
fought  not  long  before,  that  the  Germans  had  been 
overly  daring  and  had  paid  for  it. 

Yet  it  was  only  an  incident  on  a  gigantic  battle 
front  that  extended  its  mighty  curving  line  from  Swit 
zerland  to  the  sea,  and  soon  the  wireless  and  its  older 
brother  the  telephone,  and  its  oldest  brother  the  tele- 

129 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

graph,  talked  of  other  plans  which  would  cause  a  much 
greater  slaughter  than  at  Chastel.  Chastel  itself,  unless 
its  beautiful  Gothic  cathedral  brooding  unharmed  over 
the  ruins  could  win  it  a  word  or  two,  would  have 
no  place  at  all  in  history.  John  himself  was  only  one 
among  eight  or  ten  million  armed  men,  and  not  a 
single  one  of  all  those  millions  knew  that  he  lay  there 
in  the  snow  under  the  hedge. 

The  aeroplanes  came  out  in  the  clear  frosty  blue, 
and  both  German  and  French  machines  sauntered 
lazily  up  and  down  the  air  lanes,  but  they  did  not 
risk  encounters  with  one  another.  They  were  scout 
ing  with  powerful  glasses,  or  directing  the  fire  of  the 
batteries.  One  French  machine  circled  directly  over 
John,  not  more  than  two  or  three  hundred  feet  away, 
but  the  man  in  it,  keen  of  eye  though  he  was,  did 
not  dream  that  one  of  the  bravest  of  the  Strangers 
lay  asleep  under  the  hedge  beneath  him. 

The  fleets  of  flyers  were  larger  than  usual,  as  if 
they  were  anxious  to  take  the  fresh  air,  after  days 
of  storm.  But  the  most  daring  and  skillful  of  all 
the  airmen,  Philip  Lannes,  was  not  there.  He  still 
lay  in  a  hospital  a  hundred  miles  to  the  west,  with  a 
bullet  wound  in  his  shoulder,  and  while  the  time 
was  to  come  when  the  Arrow  under  his  practiced  hand 
would  once  more  be  queen  of  the  heavens,  it  was 
yet  many  days  away. 

The  sun  rose  higher,  suffusing  the  frosty  blue 
heavens  with  a  luminous  golden  glow,  but  John  slept 
heavily  on.  He  had  not  known  how  near  to  ex 
haustion  was  his  nervous  system.  Perhaps  it  was 

130 


THE  PURSUIT 

less  physical  exhaustion  than  emotion,  which  can 
make  huge  drains  upon  the  system.  Now  he  was  in 
the  keeping  of  nature  which  was  restoring  all  his 
powers  of  both  mind  and  body,  and  keeping  him  there 
until  he  should  again  have  all  his  strength  and  all 
the  keenness  of  his  faculties,  needful  for  the  great 
work  that  lay  before  him. 

It  was  halfway  toward  noon  when  he  awakened, 
remembered  dimly  in  the  first  instant,  and  then  com 
prehending  everything  in  the  second.  He  unrolled 
the  blankets,  slipped  out  of  his  lair  and  knew  by  the 
height  of  the  sun  that  he  had  slept  far  beyond  the 
time  appointed  for  himself.  But  he  did  not  worry 
over  it.  Barring  a  little  stiffness,  which  he  removed 
by  flexing  and  tensing  his  muscles,  he  felt  very  strong 
and  capable.  The  fresh  air  pouring  into  his  lungs 
was  so  different  from  the  corruption  of  the  trenches 
that  he  seemed  to  be  raised  upon  wings. 

He  resumed  his  walk  toward  the  hills,  and  ate 
breakfast  from  his  knapsack  as  he  went  along.  Pres 
ently  he  noticed  a  large  aeroplane  circling  over  his 
head,  and  he  felt  sure  that  it  was  observing  him.  It 
was  bound  to  be  French  or  other  French  machines 
would  attack  it,  and,  after  one  glance,  he  walked 
slowly  on.  The  machine  followed  him.  He  did  not 
look  up  again,  but  he  saw  a  great  shadow  on  the  snow 
that  moved  with  his. 

The  knowledge  that  he  was  being  watched  and  fol 
lowed  even  by  one  of  his  own  army  was  uncomfort 
able,  and  he  felt  a  sensation  of  relief  when  he  heard 
a  swish  and  a  swoop  and  the  aeroplane  alighted  on 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

the  snow  beside  him.  The  man  in  the  machine  stepped 
out  and  asked: 

"Who  are  you  and  where  are  you  going?" 

John  did  not  altogether  like  his  manner,  which  in 
his  own  idiom  he  styled  "fresh." 

"I've  a  name,"  he  replied,  "but  it's  none  of  your 
business,  and  I'm  going  somewhere,  but  that's  none 
of  your  business  either." 

"They're  both  my  business,"  said  the  man,  drawing 
a  revolver. 

"Read  that,"  said  John,  producing  his  passport. 

The  document  stated  simply  that  Jean  Castel  was 
engaged  upon  an  important  mission  for  France,  and 
all  were  commanded  to  give  him  what  help  they  could. 
It  rras  signed  by  the  fat  and  famous  general  of  brigade, 
Vaugirard,  and  therefore  it  was  a  significant  docu 
ment. 

"I  apologize  for  brusqueness,"  said  the  aviator 
handsomely,  "but  the  times  are  such  that  we  forget 
our  politeness.  What  can  I  do  for  you,  Monsieur 
Jean  Castel,  who  I  am  sure  has  another  and  more 
rightful  name  at  other  times." 

"Just  now  Castel  is  my  right  name,  and  all  friends 
of  mine  will  call  me  by  it.  Thank  you  for  your  offer, 
but  you  can  do  nothing — " 

John  stopped  suddenly  as  he  glanced  at  the  aero 
plane  poised  like  a  huge  bird  in  the  snow. 

"Yes,  you  can  do  something,"  he  said.  "I  notice 
that  your  plane  is  big  enough  for  two.  I  want  to 
reach  the  mountains  to  the  eastward  without  all  this 
tremendous  toiling  through  the  snow.  You  can  carry 

132 


THE  PURSUIT 

me  there  in  an  hour  or  two,  and  besides  this  passport 
I  give  you  a  password." 

"What's  the  password?" 

"Lannes!" 

"Lannes!     Philip  Lannes,  do  you  know  him?" 

"I  have  been  up  with  him  in  the  Arrow  many  times. 
I've  fought  the  Taubes  with  him.  I  helped  him  destroy 
both  a  Zeppelin  and  a  forty-two-centimeter  gun." 

"Then  I  know  you.  You  are  his  friend  John  Scott, 
the  American.  I  thought  at  first  that  you  had  the 
accent  of  North  America.  Oh,  I  know  of  you!  We 
flying  men  are  a  close  group,  and  what  happens  to  one 
of  us  is  not  hidden  long  from  the  others.  Your  pass 
word  is  sufficient." 

"You  know  then  that  Lannes  is  in  a  hospital  with 
a  bullet  wound  in  his  shoulder?" 

"I  heard  it  two  days  ago.  A  pity!  A  great  pity! 
He'll  be  as  well  as  ever  in  a  month,  but  France  needs 
her  king  of  the  air  every  day.  My  own  name  is  De- 
launois,  and  I'll  put  you  down  in  those  hills  at  what 
ever  point  you  wish,  Monsieur  Jean  Castel  of 
America." 

John  smiled.    Delaunois  was  a  fine  fellow  after  all. 

"I  can't  give  you  an  extra  suit  for  flying,"  said 
Delaunois,  "but  your  two  blankets  ought  to  protect 
you  in  the  icy  air.  I'll  not  go  very  high,  and  an  hour 
or  a  little  more  should  put  us  in  the  heart  of  the 
hills." 

"Good  enough,  and  many  thanks  to  you,"  said  John. 

They  gave  the  machine  the  requisite  push,  sprang 
in  and  rose  slowly  above  the  snowy  waste.  It  was 

133 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

a  good  aeroplane,  and  Delaunois  was  a  good  aviator, 
but  John  missed  the  Arrow  and  Philip.  He  knew  that 
the  heavens  nowhere  held  such  another  pair.  Alas! 
that  Lannes  should  be  laid  up  at  such  a  time  with  a 
wound ! 

But  he  quickly  called  himself  ungrateful.  Delaunois 
had  come  at  a  most  timely  moment,  and  he  was  doing 
him  a  great  service.  It  was  very  cold  above  the  earth, 
as  Delaunois  had  predicted,  and  he  wrapped  the  blan 
kets  closely  about  himself,  drawing  one  over  his  head 
and  face,  until  he  was  completely  covered  except  the 
eyes. 

To  the  westward  several  other  planes  were  hover 
ing  and  to  the  eastward  was  another  group  which 
John  knew  to  be  German.  But  the  flying  machines 
did  not  seem  disposed  to  enter  into  hostilities  that 
morning,  although  John  saw  the  double  line  of  trenches 
blazing  now  and  then  with  fire,  and,  at  intervals,  the 
heavy  batteries  on  either  side  sent  a  stated  number  of 
shells  at  the  enemy. 

Seen  from  a  height  the  opposing  trenches  appeared 
to  be  almost  together,  and  the  fire  of  the  hostile 
marksmen  blended  into  the  same  line  of  light.  But 
John  did  not  look  at  them  long.  He  had  seen  so  much 
of  foul  trenches  for  weary  months  that  it  was  a 
pleasure  to  let  the  eye  fill  with  something  else. 

He  looked  instead  at  the  high  hills  which  were 
fast  coming  near,  and  although  covered  with  snow, 
with  trees  bare  of  leaves,  they  were  a  glorious  sight, 
an  intense  relief  to  him  after  all  that  monotony  of 
narrow  mud  walls.  He  knew  that  trenches  or  other 

134 


THE  PURSUIT 

earthworks  ran  among  the  hills  also,  but  the  nature 
of  the  ground  compelled  breaks,  and  it  would  be  easier 
anyhow  to  pass  through  a  forest  or  a  ravine. 

"Where  do  you  wish  me  to  put  you  down?"  asked 
Delaunois. 

"At  some  place  in  those  low  mountains  there,  where 
the  German  lines  are  furthest  from  ours." 

"I  think  I  know  such  a  point.  You  won't  mind 
my  speaking  of  you  as  a  spy,  Mr.  Jean  Castel  of 
America,  will  you?" 

"Not  at  all,  because  that's  what  I  am." 

"Then  don't  take  too  big  a  risk.  It  hasn't  been 
long  since  you  were  a  boy,  and  I  don't  like  to  think 
of  one  so  young  being  executed  as  a  spy." 

"I  don't  intend  to  be." 

"It's  likely  that  I  may  see  Philip  Lannes  before 
long.  I  go  westward  in  two  or  three  days  and  I 
shall  find  a  chance  to  visit  him  in  the  hospital.  If 
I  see  him  what  shall  I  tell  him  about  a  young  man 
whom  we  both  know,  one  John  Scott,  an  American?" 

"You  tell  him  that  his  sister,  Mademoiselle  Julie 
Lannes,  came  to  the  village  of  Chastel  to  meet  him, 
in  accordance  with  his  written  request,  and  while  she 
was  waiting  for  him  with  her  servants,  Antoine  and 
Suzanne  Picard,  not  knowing  that  he  had  been 
wounded  since  the  writing  of  his  letter,  she  was  kid 
napped  and  carried  into  Germany  with  the  Picards 
by  Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg.  Prince  Karl  is  in  love 
with  her  and  intends  to  force  her  into  a  morganatic 
marriage.  Otherwise  she  is  safe.  The  American,  John 
Scott,  in  addition  to  his  duties  as  a  spy  for  France, 

135 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

a  country  that  he  loves  and  admires,  intends,  if  human 
endeavor  can  achieve  it,  to  rescue  Mademoiselle  Lannes 
and  bring  her  back  to  Paris." 

Delaunois  took  one  hand  from  the  steering  rudder 
and  turned  glistening  eyes  upon  John. 

"It's  a  knightly  adventure,"  he  said.  "It  will 
appeal  to  Frenchmen  when  they  hear  of  it,  and  yet 
more  to  Frenchwomen.  I  should  like  to  *  shake  the 
hand  of  this  American,  John  Scott,  and  since  he  is 
not  here,  I  will,  if  you  will  let  me,  shake  the  hand  of 
his  nearest  French  relative,  Jean  Castel." 

He  opened  his  gloved  palm  and  John's  met  it  in  a 
strong  grasp. 

"I'm  glad,"  said  Delaunois,  "that  I  saw  you,  and 
that  I  am  able  to  give  you  this  lift.  We're  over  the 
edge  of  the  mountains  now,  and  presently  we'll  cross 
the  French  lines.  I  think  I'd  better  go  up  a  con 
siderable  distance,  as  they  won't  know  we're  French, 
and  they  might  give  us  a  few  shots." 

The  machine  rose  fast  and  it  grew  intensely  cold. 
John  looked  down  now  upon  a  country,  containing 
much  forest  for  Europe,  and  sparsely  inhabited.  But 
he  saw  far  beneath  them  trenches  and  other  earth 
works  manned  with  French  soldiers.  Several  officers 
were  examining  them  through  glasses,  but  Delaunois 
sailed  gracefully  over  the  line,  circled  around  a  slender 
peak  where  he  was  hidden  completely  from  their  view, 
and  then  dropped  down  in  a  forest  of  larch  and  pine. 

"So  far  as  I  know,"  he  said,  when  the  plane  rested 
on  the  snow,  "nobody  has  seen  our  descent.  We're 
well  beyond  the  French  lines  here,  but  you'll  find  Ger- 

136 


THE  PURSUIT 

man  forts  four  or  five  miles  ahead.  As  you  see,  this 
is  exceedingly  rough  ground,  not  easy  for  men  to 
occupy,  and  so  the  French  stay  on  one  side  of  this 
little  cluster  of  mountains  while  the  Germans  keep 
to  the  other.  And  now,  Monsieur  Jean  Castel,  I 
leave  you  here,  wishing  you  success  in  your  quest, 
success  in  every  respect." 

Again  the  two  strong  hands  met.  A  minute  later 
the  aeroplane  rose  in  the  air,  carrying  but  one  of  the 
men,  while  Jean  Castel,  peasant  of  Lorraine,  was  left 
behind,  standing  in  the  snow,  and  feeling  very  grate 
ful  to  Delaunois. 

John  watched  the  aeroplane  disappear  over  the  peak 
on  its  return  journey,  and  then  he  walked  boldly  east 
ward  toward  the  German  lines.  Modesty  kept  him 
from  accepting  Delaunois'  tribute  in  full,  but  it  had 
warmed  his  heart  and  strengthened  his  courage  anew. 
Delaunois  had  considered  it  not  a  reckless  quest,  but 
high  adventure  with  a  noble  impulse,  and  John's  heart 
and  spirit  had  responded  quickly.  Great  deeds  come 
from  exaltation,  and  that  mood  was  his. 

He  followed  what  seemed  to  be  a  little  path  under 
the  snow,  leading  along  the  side  of  the  mountain 
toward  the  eastward,  the  way  he  would  go.  Here 
portions  of  the  earth  were  exposed,  where  the  snow 
had  already  melted  much  under  the  heat  of  the  high 
sun.  Three  or  four  hundred  feet  below  a  brook 
ran  noisily  over  stones,  but  that  was  the  only  sound 
in  the  mountains.  He  felt  though  that  the  Germans 
must  be  somewhere  near.  Men  with  glasses  might  be 
watching  him  already. 

137 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

He  decided  at  once  upon  his  role.  In  Europe 
peasants  were  often  heavy  and  loutish.  It  was  ex 
pected  of  them,  and  none  would  be  heavier  or  more 
loutish  than  he.  He  thrust  both  hands  in  his  pockets, 
and  began  to  whistle  familiar  German  songs  and 
hymns,  varying  them  now  and  then  with  a  chanson 
or  two  that  might  have  been  sung  for  centuries  in 
Lorraine. 

The  path  led  on  across  a  little  valley  and  then  along 
the  slope  of  another  ridge.  Under  the  increasing  heat 
of  the  sun  the  snow  was  now  melting  much  faster, 
and  streams  ran  in  every  ravine.  But  the  stalwart 
young  peasant,  Jean  Castel  of  Lorraine,  was  sure  of 
his  footing,  and  he  advanced  steadily  toward  his  goal. 

Germans  in  rifle  pits  saw  the  figure  coming  their 
way,  and  several  officers  .examined  it  critically  with 
their  glasses.  All  pronounced  the  stranger  obviously 
a  peasant,  and  they  were  equally  sure  that  he  could 
do  them  no  harm.  He  was  coming  straight  toward 
their  pits  and  so  they  awaited  him  with  some  curi 
osity. 

John  presently  caught  the  shimmer  of  sun  on  bayo 
nets,  and  he  knew  now  that  he  would  soon  reach  the 
German  earthworks.  His  first  care  after  Delaunois 
left  him,  had  been  to  destroy  the  passport  that  Gen 
eral  Vaugirard  had  given  him  and  there  was  not  a 
scratch  of  writing  about  him  to  identify  him  as  John 
Scott. 

Whistling  louder  than  ever,  and  looking  vacant  of 
countenance,  he  walked  boldly  toward  the  first  rifle 
pit,  and,  when  the  sharp  hail  of  the  German  sentry 

138 


THE  PURSUIT 

came,  he  promptly  threw  up  his  hands.  An  officer 
whom  he  took  to  be  a  lieutenant  and  four  or  five  men 
came  toward  him.  All  wore  heavy  gray  overcoats 
and  they  were  really  boys  rather  than  men;  not  one 
of  them,  including  the  officers,  seeming  to  be  more 
than  twenty.  But  they  were  large  and  muscular, 
heavily  tanned  by  wind  and  snow  and  rain. 

John  had  learned  to  read  character,  and  as  he 
walked  carelessly  toward  them  he  nevertheless  watched 
them  keenly.  And  so  watching  he  judged  that  they 
were  honest  youths,  ready  to  like  or  hate,  according 
to  orders  from  the  men  higher  up,  but  by  nature 
simple  and  direct.  He  did  not  feel  any  fear  of  them. 

"Halt!"  said  the  officer,  whom  John  judged  to  be 
a  Saxon — he  had  seen  his  kind  in  Dresden  and 
Leipsic. 

John  stopped  obediently,  and  raised  his  hand  in  a 
clumsy  military  fashion,  standing  there  while  they 
looked  him  over. 

"Now  you  can  come  forward,  still  with  your  hands 
up,"  said  the  officer,  though  not  in  any  fierce  manner, 
"and  tell  us  who  you  are." 

John  advanced,  and  they  quickly  searched  him,  find 
ing  no  weapon. 

"You  can  take  your  hands  down,"  said  the  officer. 
"Unarmed,  I  don't  believe  you'd  be  a  match  for  our 
rifles.  Now,  who  are  you?" 

"Jean  Castel,  sir,  of  Lorraine,"  replied  John  in  Ger 
man  with  a  strong  French  accent. 

"And  what  have  you  been  doing  here  between  our 
lines  and  those  of  the  French?" 

139 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"I  took  some  cattle  across  the  mountains  for  the 
army  and  having  sold  them  I  was  walking  back  home. 
In  the  storm  last  night  I  wandered  through  the  lines 
into  this  very  rough  country  and  got  lost." 

"You  do  look  battered.  But  you  say  you  sold  your 
cattle.  Now  what  have  you  done  with  your  money?" 

The  officer's  tone  had  suddenly  become  suspicious, 
but  John  was  prepared.  Opening  his  heavy  blouse  he 
took  from  an  inside  pocket  a  handful  of  German  gold 
and  notes.  The  young  lieutenant  glanced  at  the  money 
and  his  suspicions  departed. 

"It's  good  German,"  he  said,  "and  I  don't  think  a 
peasant  like  you  could  have  got  it  unless  he  had  some 
thing  valuable  to  sell.  Come,  you  shall  go  back  with 
us  and  I'll  turn  you  over  to  a  higher  officer.  I'm  Lieu 
tenant  Heinrich  Schmidt,  and  we're  part  of  a  Saxon 
division." 

John  went  with  them  without  hesitation.  In  fact, 
he  felt  little  fear.  There  was  nothing  to  disprove 
his  statements,  and  he  was  not  one  of  those  who  looked 
upon  Germans  as  barbarians.  Experience  had  shown 
him  that  ordinary  Germans  had  plenty  of  human 
kindness.  He  sniffed  the  pleasant  odors  that  came 
from  the  kitchen  automobiles  near  by,  and  remarked 
naively  that  he  would  be  glad  to  share  their  rations 
until  they  passed  him  on. 

"Very  well,  Castel,"  said  Lieutenant  Schmidt,  "you 
shall  have  your  share,  but  I  must  take  you  first  to 
our  colonel.  He  will  have  important  questions  to  ask 
you." 

"I'm  ready,"  said  John  in  an  indifferent  tone.  But 
140 


THE  PURSUIT 

as  he  went  with  the  men  he  noted  as  well  as  he  could, 
without  attracting  attention  to  himself,  the  German 
position.  Rifle  pits  and  trenches  appeared  at  irregular 
intervals,  but  the  mountains  themselves  furnished  the 
chief  fortifications.  In  such  country  as  this  it  would 
be  difficult  for  either  side  to  drive  back  the  other,  a 
fact  which  the  enemies  themselves  seemed  to  con 
cede,  as  there  was  no  firing  on  this  portion  of  the 
line.  But  at  points  far  to  the  west  the  great  guns 
muttered,  and  their  faint  echoes  ran  through  the 
gorges. 

The  path  led  around  one  of  the  crests,  and  they 
came  to  a  little  cluster  of  tiny  huts,  which  John  knew 
to  be  the  quarters  of  officers.  Snug,  too,  they  looked, 
with  smoke  coming  out  of  stovepipes  that  ran  through 
the  roofs  of  several  of  them.  A  tall  man,  broad  of 
shoulder,  slender  of  waist,  blue  of  eye,  yellow  of  hair, 
and  not  more  than  thirty,  came  forward  to  meet  them. 
John  recognized  at  once  a  typical  German  officer  of 
high  birth,  learned  in  his  trade,  arrogant,  convinced 
of  his  own  superiority,  but  brave  and  meaning  to  be 
fair. 

"A  peasant  of  Lorraine,  sir,"  said  Lieutenant 
Schmidt.  "He  says  that  his  name  is  Jean  Castel,  and 
that  he  has  been  selling  cattle.  We  found  him  wan 
dering  between  the  lines.  He  was  unarmed  and  he 
has  considerable  money." 

"Come  closer,"  said  the  officer  to  John.  "I'm 
Colonel  Joachim  Stratz,  the  commander  of  this  regi 
ment,  and  you  must  give  a  thorough  account  of 
yourself." 

141 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

John  advanced  willingly  and  saluted,  feeling  that 
the  glance  Colonel  Stratz  bent  upon  him  was  heavy 
and  piercing.  Yet  he  awaited  the  result  with  con 
fidence.  It  was  true  that  he  was  American,  but  he 
had  been  with  the  French  so  much  now  that  he  had 
acquired  many  of  their  tricks  of  manner,  and  his 
French  accent  was  impeccable. 

"You  are  a  seller  of  cattle?"  said  Colonel  Stratz, 
suddenly  in  English. 

The  words  of  reply  began  to  form,  but  John  re 
membered  himself  in  time.  He  was  a  French  peasant 
who  understood  no  English,  and  giving  Colonel  Stratz 
a  puzzled  look  he  shook  his  head.  But  he  wondered 
what  suspicion  had  caused  the  German  to  ask  him 
a  question  in  English.  He  concluded  it  must  be  a  mere 
chance. 

Colonel  Stratz  then  addressed  him  in  German,  and 
John  replied  to  all  his  queries,  speaking  with  a  strong 
French  accent,  repeating  the  tale  that  he  had  told  Lieu 
tenant  Schmidt,  and  answering  everything  so  readily 
and  so  convincingly  that  Colonel  Joachim  Stratz,  an 
acute  and  able  man,  was  at  last  satisfied. 

"Where  do  you  wish  to  go  now,  Castel?"  asked  the 
German. 

"To  Metz,  if  it  please  you,  sir." 

"Wouldn't  it  be  better  for  you  to  stay,  put  on  a 
uniform,  take  up  a  rifle  and  fight  for  our  Kaiser  and 
Fatherland?" 

John  shook  his  head  and  put  on  the  preternaturally 
wise  look  of  the  light- witted. 

"I'm  no  soldier,"  he  replied. 
142 


THE  PURSUIT 

"Why  weren't  you  called?  You're  of  the  right 
age." 

"A  little  weakness  of  the  heart.  I  cannot  endure 
the  great  strain,  but  I  can  drive  the  cattle." 

"Oh,  well,  if  that  is  so,  you  serve  us  better  by 
sticking  to  your  trade.  Lieutenant  Schmidt,  give  him 
food  and  drink,  and  then  I'll  prepare  for  him  a  pass 
through  the  lines  that  will  take  him  part  of  the  way 
to  Metz.  He'll  have  to  get  other  passes  as  he  goes 
along." 

John  saluted  and  thanked  Colonel  Stratz,  and  then 
he  and  Lieutenant  Schmidt  approached  one  of  the  great 
German  kitchen  automobiles.  It  was  easy  to  play  the 
role  of  a  simple  and  honest  peasant,  and  while  he  drank 
good  beer  and  ate  good  cheese  and  sausage,  he  and 
Lieutenant  Schmidt  became  quite  friendly. 

Schmidt  asked  him  many  questions.  He  wanted  to 
know  if  he  had  been  near  the  French  lines,  and  John 
laughingly  replied  that  he  had  been  altogether  too 
near.  Three  rifle  bullets  fired  from  some  hidden  point 
had  whizzed  very  close  to  him,  and  he  had  run  for 
his  life. 

"I  shall  take  care  never  to  get  lost  again,"  he 
said,  "and  I  intend  to  keep  well  behind  our  army. 
The  battle  line  is  not  the  place  for  Jean  Castel.  Why 
spoil  a  first-class  herder  to  make  a  second-class 
soldier?" 

He  winked  cunningly  at  Schmidt,  who  laughed. 

"You're  no  great  hero,"  said  the  German,  "but  if 
a  man  wants  to  take  care  of  his  skin  can  he  be  blamed 
for  doing  so?  Still,  you're  not  so  safe  here." 

143 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"How's  that?"  asked  John  in  assumed  alarm. 

"Now  and  then  the  French  send  shells  over  that 
mountain  in  front  of  us  and  when  one  is  fired  it's 
bound  to  hit  somewhere.  We  haven't  had  any  at  this 
point  yet,  but  our  time  is  sure  to  come  sooner  or  later." 

"Then  I  think  I'll  be  going,"  said  John,  willing  to 
maintain  his  new  reputation  as  a  timid  man. 

Schmidt  laughed  again. 

"Oh,  no,  not  yet,"  he  said.  "Your  passport  isn't 
ready,  and  without  it  you  can't  move.  Have  another 
glass  of  this  beer.  It  was  made  in  Munich,  and  puts 
heart  into  a  man." 

John  drank.  It  was  really  fine  beer,  and  the  food 
was  excellent,  warm  and  well  cooked.  He  had  not 
realized  before  how  hungry  and  thirsty  he  was.  It 
was  a  hunger  and  thirst  that  the  cold  meat  and  bread 
in  his  knapsack  and  snow  water  would  not  have  as 
suaged.  Many  Germans  also  were  refreshing  them 
selves.  He  had  noticed  that  in  both  armies  the  troops 
were  always  well  fed.  Distances  were  short,  and  an 
abundance  of  railways  brought  vast  quantities  of  sup 
plies  from  fertile  regions. 

While  he  was  still  eating  he  heard  a  shriek  and  a 
roar  and  a  huge  shell  burst  two  or  three  hundred  yards 
away.  Much  earth  was  torn  up,  four  men  were 
wounded  slightly  and  an  empty  ambulance  was  over 
turned,  but  the  regular  life  of  the  German  army  went 
on  undisturbed. 

"I  told  you  that  we  had  French  messengers  now 
and  then,"  said  Lieutenant  Schmidt,  holding  a  glass 
of  beer  in  his  right  hand  and  a  sausage  in  his  left, 

144 


THE  PURSUIT 

"but  that  message  was  delivered  nearer  to  us  than 
any  other  in  three  days.  I  don't  think  they'll  fire 
again  for  a  half -hour,  and  the  chances  are  a  hundred 
to  one  that  it  will  fall  much  further  away.  So  why 
be  disturbed?" 

Lieutenant  Schmidt  was  beginning  to  feel  happy. 
He  had  a  sentimental  German  soul,  and  all  the  beer 
he  wanted  brought  all  his  benevolence  to  the  surface. 

"I  like  you,  Castel,"  he  said.  "Your  blood  is  French, 
of  course,  or  it  was  once,  but  you  of  Lorraine  have 
had  all  the  benefits  of  German  culture  and  training. 
A  German  you  were  born,  a  German  you  have  re 
mained,  and  a  German  you  will  be  all  your  life.  The 
time  is  coming  when  we  will  extend  the  blessings  of 
our  German  culture  to  all  of  France,  and  then  to  Eng 
land,  and  then  maybe  to  the  whole  world." 

Lieutenant  Schmidt  had  drunk  a  great  deal  of  beer, 
and  even  beer  when  taken  in  large  quantities  may  be 
heady.  His  tongue  was  loose  and  long. 

"And  to  that  distant  and  barbarous  country, 
America,  too,"  said  John. 

"Aye,  and  to  the  Americans  also,"  said  Lieutenant 
Schmidt.  "I  hear  that  they  don't  love  us,  although 
they  have  much  of  our  blood  in  their  veins.  There 
are  many  people  among  them  bearing  German  names 
who  denounce  us.  When  we  finish  with  our  enemies 
here  in  Europe  we'll  teach  the  barbarous  Americans 
to  love  the  Kaiser." 

"A  hard  task,"  said  John,  with  meaning. 

"So  it  will  be,"  said  Lieutenant  Schmidt,  taking 
his  meaning  differently,  "but  the  harder  the  task  the 

145 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

better  we  Germans  love  it.  And  now,  Castel,  here 
comes  your  passport.  Its  little  winged  words  will 
bear  you  safely  to  the  headquarters  of  General  Oster- 
weiler  thirty  miles  to  the  north  and  east,  and  there 
you'll  have  to  get  another  passport,  if  you  can.  Auf 
wiedersehen,  Jean  Castel.  Your  forefathers  were 
French,  but  you  are  German,  good  German,  and  I 
wish  you  well." 

Lieutenant  Schmidt's  cheeks  were  very  red  just  then, 
not  altogether  with  the  cold,  and  his  benevolence  had 
extended  to  the  whole  world,  including  the  French 
and  English,  whom  he  must  fight  regretfully. 

"Oh,"  said  John,  as  an  afterthought,  although  he 
was  keenly  noting  his  condition,  "while  I  was  wan 
dering  in  the  snow  of  the  big  storm,  I  heard  from 
a  sentinel  that  one  of  our  great  generals  and  beloved 
princes,  Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg,  had  passed  this 
way  with  his  train." 

Perhaps  if  Lieutenant  Schmidt  had  not  taken  so 
much  good  Munich  beer  after  a  long  fast  he  might 
have  become  suspicious,  because  it  was  not  the  ques 
tion  that  an  ordinary  peasant  and  cattle-herder  would 
ask  unless  the  previous  conversation  had  led  directly 
to  it.  But  as  it  was  he  fairly  exuded  trust  and  kind 
ness. 

"Not  here,"  he  replied,  "but  at  a  point  further 
toward  the  west  and  north.  So  great  a  figure  as  Prince 
Karl  of  Auersperg  could  scarcely  go  by  without  our 
hearing  of  it.  Colonel  Stratz  himself  spoke  of  it  in 
my  presence." 

"I  saw  him  once  in  Metz  before  the  war.  A  grand 
146 


THE  PURSUIT 

and  imposing  figure.  Perhaps  I  shall  behold  him  there 
again  in  a  few  days." 

"I  think  not.  It  was  said  that  the  prince  was  going 
to  his  estates  in  the  east.  At  least,  I  think  I  heard 
something  of  the  kind,  but  it  probably  means  that 
he  was  on  his  way  to  the  eastern  frontier.  Prince 
Karl  of  Auersperg  is  not  the  man  to  withdraw  from 
the  war." 

John's  heart  dropped  suddenly.  Would  he  be  com 
pelled  to  follow  the  prince  halfway  across  Europe. 
Oh,  why  had  he  left  the  Hotel  de  1' Europe  even  for 
a  moment?  With  Picard's  help  he  might  have  been 
able  to  hold  off  Auersperg  and  his  followers,  or  a 
lucky  shot  might  have  disposed  of  the  prince.  He 
felt  it  no  crime  to  have  wished  for  such  a  chance. 
But  strengthening  his  heart  anew  he  took  up  the  burden 
that  had  grown  heavier. 

"Auf  zviedersehen,  Lieutenant  Schmidt,"  he  said, 
and  whistling  softly  to  himself  he  began  his  passage 
through  the  German  lines,  showing  his  passport  more 
than  a  dozen  times  before  he  passed  the  last  trench 
and  rifle  pit,  and  was  alone  among  the  hills  behind  the 
German  lines.  He  might  have  reached  the  railroad 
and  have  gone  by  train  to  Metz,  but  he  preferred, 
for  the  present  at  least,  to  cling  to  the  country,  even 
at  the  risk  of  much  physical  hardship  and  suffering. 

He  still  carried  his  blankets,  and  he  was  traveling 
through  a  region  which  had  been  much  fought  over 
in  the  earlier  stages  of  the  war.  Since  the  German 
lines  were  still  in  France  some  peasants  had  returned 
to  their  homes,  but  many  houses  were  yet  abandoned, 

147 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

their  owners  probably  thinking  that  the  tide  of  battle 
would  roll  back  upon  them,  and  that  it  was  better  to 
wait. 

He  turned  presently  from  the  hilly  path  into  a  good 
road,  paved  almost  like  a  street,  and  breaking  from  a 
bush  a  stout  stick,  which  he  used  peasant  fashion  as 
a  cane,  he  walked  briskly  along  the  smooth  surface, 
now  almost  clear  of  the  snow  which  had  fallen  in 
much  smaller  quantities  in  the  lowlands. 

He  met  a  battery  of  four  twenty-one-centimeter  guns 
with  their  numerous  crews  and  an  escort  of  cavalry, 
advancing  to  the  front,  and  he  stepped  to  one  side  of 
the  road  to  let  them  pass.  The  leader  of  the  cavalry 
hailed  him  and  John's  heart  gave  a  sudden  alarming 
throb  as  he  recognized  von  Boehlen.  But  his  courage 
came  back  when  he  saw  that  he  would  not  have  known 
the  Prussian  had  he  remained  twenty  feet  away.  Von 
Boehlen  was  deeply  tanned  and  much  thinner.  There 
were  lines  in  his  face  and  he  had  all  the  appearance 
of  a  man  who  had  been  through  almost  unbearable 
hardships. 

John  had  no  doubt  that  a  long  life  in  the  trenches 
and  intense  anxiety  had  made  an  equal  change  in  him 
self.  The  glass  had  told  him  that  he  looked  more 
mature,  more  like  a  man  of  thought  and  experience. 
Moreover,  he  was  in  the  dress  of  a  peasant.  After 
the  first  painful  heartbeat  he  awaited  von  Boehlen 
with  confidence. 

"Whence  do  you  come?"  asked  the  colonel  of 
Uhlans — colonel  he  now  was. 

John  pointed  back  over  his  shoulder  and  then  pro- 
148 


THE  PURSUIT 

duced  his  passport,  which  Colonel  vcn  Boehlen,  after 
reading,  handed  carefully  back  to  him. 

"Did  you  see  anything  of  the  French?"  he  asked 
glancing  again  at  John,  but  without  a  sign  of  recog 
nition. 

"No,  sir,"  replied  John  in  his  new  German  with  a 
French  accent,  "but  I  saw  a  most  unpleasant  messenger 
of  theirs." 

"A  messenger?     What  kind  of  a  messenger?" 

"Long,  round  and  made  of  steel.  It  came  over  a 
mountain  and  then  with  a  loud  noise  divided  itself 
into  many  parts  near  the  place  where  I  stood.  One 
messenger  turned  itself  into  a  thousand  messengers, 
and  they  were  all  messengers  of  death.  Honored  sir, 
I  left  that  vicinity  as  soon  as  I  could,  and  I  have 
been  traveling  fast,  directly  away  from  there,  ever 
since." 

Von  Boehlen  laughed,  and  then  his  strong  jaws 
closed  tighter.  After  a  moment's  silence,  he  said : 

"Many  such  messengers  have  been  passing  in  recent 
months.  The  air  has  been  full  of  them.  If  you  don't 
like  battles,  Castel,  I  don't  blame  you  for  traveling 
in  the  direction  you  take." 

John,  who  had  turned  his  face  away  for  precau 
tionary  measures,  looked  him  full  in  the  eyes  again, 
and  he  found  in  his  heart  a  little  liking  for  the  Prus 
sian.  Von  Boehlen  seemed  to  have  lost  something 
of  his  haughtiness  and  confidence  since  those  swag 
gering  days  in  Dresden,  and  the  loss  had  improved 
him.  John  saw  some  signs  of  a  civilian's  sense  of 
justice  and  reason  beneath  the  military  gloss. 

149 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

/ 

"May  I  pass  on,  sir?"  he  asked.  "I  wish  to 
reach  Metz,  where  I  can  obtain  more  horses  for  the 
army." 

"Why  do  you  walk?" 

"I  sold  my  last  horse  and  the  automobiles  and  trains 
are  not  for  me.  I  know  that  the  army  needs  all  the 
space  in  them  and  I  ask  nothing." 

"Fare  on  then,"  said  von  Boehlen.  "Your  papers 
are  in  good  condition  and  you'll  have  no  trouble  in 
reaching  Metz.  But  be  sure  you  don't  lose  your  pass 
port" 

The  injunction  was  kindly  and  John,  thanking  him, 
took  up  the  road.  Von  Boehlen  and  his  Uhlans  rode 
on,  and  John  looked  back  once.  He  caught  a  single 
glimpse  of  the  colonel's  broad  shoulders  and  then  the 
long  column  of  horsemen  rode  by.  There  was  no 
military  pomp  about  them  now.  Their  gray  uniforms 
were  worn  and  stained  and  many  of  the  men  sagged 
in  their  saddles  with  weariness.  Not  a  few  showed 
wounds  barely  healed. 

The  cavalry  were  followed  by  infantry,  and  bat 
teries  of  guns  so  heavy  that  often  the  wheels  sank 
in  the  paved  road.  Sometimes  the  troops  sang,  pour 
ing  forth  the  mighty  rolling  choruses  of  the  German 
national  songs  and  hymns.  The  gay  air  as  of  sure 
victory  just  ahead  that  marked  them  in  the  closing 
months  of  summer  the  year  before  had  departed,  but 
in  its  place  was  a  grim  resolution  that  made  them 
seem  to  John  as  formidable  as  ever.  The  steady  beat 
of  solid  German  feet  made  a  rolling  sound  which  the 
orders  of  officers  and  the  creaking  of  wagons  and 

ISO 


THE  PURSUIT 

artillery  scarcely  disturbed.  The  waves  of  the  gray 
sea  swept  steadily  on  toward  France. 

John  showed  his  passport  twice  more,  but  all  that 
day  he  beheld  marching  troops.  In  the  afternoon  it 
snowed  a  little  again  and  the  slush  was  everywhere, 
but  he  trudged  bravely  through  it.  Having  escaped 
from  the  trenches  he  felt  that  he  could  endure  any 
thing.  What  were  snow,  a  gray  sky  and  a  cold  wind 
to  one  who  had  lived  for  months  on  a  floor  of  earth 
and  between  narrow  walls  of  half- frozen  mud?  He 
was  like  a  prisoner  who  had  escaped  from  a  steel 
cage. 

Toward  dark  he  turned  from  the  road  and  sought 
refuge  at  a  low  but  rather  large  farmhouse,  standing 
among  trees.  He  modestly  made  his  way  to  the  rear, 
and  asked  shelter  for  the  night  in  the  stable,  saying 
that  he  would  pay.  He  learned  that  the  place  was 
occupied  by  people  bearing  the  German  name  of  Gratz, 
which  however  signified  little  on  that  borderland,  which 
at  different  times  had  been  under  both  German  and 
French  rule. 

Nor  did  the  proprietor  of  the  house  himself,  who 
came  out  to  see  him,  enlighten  him  concerning  his 
sympathies.  If  he  liked  France  obviously  it  was  no 
time  for  him  to  say  so  when  he  was  surrounded  by 
the  German  legions.  But  John  could  sleep  on  the 
hay  in  the  stable,  and  have  supper  and  breakfast  for 
certain  number  of  marks  or  francs  which  he  must 
show  in  advance.  He  showed  them  and  all  was  well. 

John,  after  carefully  scraping  all  the  mud  and  snow 
from  his  boots  was  allowed  to  go  in  the  big  kitchen 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

and  sit  on  a  stone  bench  beside  the  wall,  while  two 
stout  women  cooked  at  a  great  furnace,  and  trim 
maids  came  for  the  food  which  they  took  upstairs. 

When  he  sank  down  upon  the  bench  he  realized 
that  he  was  tired  through  and  through.  It  was  no 
light  task  even  for  a  hardened  soldier  to  walk  all  day 
in  bad  weather.  One  of  the  cooks,  a  stout  middle- 
aged  woman  whom  the  others  called  Johanna,  gave 
him  a  glance  of  sympathy.  She  saw  a  young  man 
pale  from  great  exertion,  but  with  a  singularly  fine 
face,  a  face  that  was  exceedingly  strong,  without  being 
coarse  or  rough.  Johanna  thought  him  handsome,  and 
so  did  the  other  cook,  also  stout  and  middle-aged,  who 
bore  the  French  name  of  Nanine. 

"Poor  young  man !"  said  one  and,  "Poor  young 
man!"  repeated  the  other.  Then  they  filled  a  plate 
with  warm  food  and  handed  it  to  him.  While  he  ate 
he  talked  with  them  and  the  passing  maids,  who  were 
full  of  interest  in  the  handsome  young  stranger.  He 
told  them  that  he  was  a  horse-trader,  and  that  he 
had  been  in  no  battle,  nor  would  he  be  in  any,  but 
he  saw  that  he  was  not  believed,  and  secretly  he  was 
glad  of  it.  These  were  trim  young  maids  and  a  young 
soldier  likes  admiration,  even  if  it  comes  from  those 
who  in  the  world's  opinion  are  of  a  lower  rank  than 
he. 

They  asked  him  innumerable  questions,  and  he  an 
swered  as  well  as  he  could.  He  told  of  the  troops 
that  he  had  seen,  and  they  informed  him  that  Ger 
man  forces  had  been  passing  there  at  times  all  through 
the  winter.  Princes  and  great  generals  had  stopped 

152 


THE  PURSUIT 

at  the  farmhouse  of  Herr  Gratz  or  Monsieur  Gratz, 
as  he  was  indifferently  called.  The  war  had  ruined 
many  others,  but  it  brought  profit  to  him,  because 
all  the  guests  paid  and  paid  well. 

John  in  a  pleased  and  restful  state  listened,  and  he 
was  soothed  by  the  sound  of  their  voices.  He  had 
often  heard  old  men  at  home,  veterans  of  the  Civil 
War,  tell  how  grateful  to  them  was  the  sight  of  a 
woman  after  months  of  marching  and  fighting.  Now 
he  understood.  These  were  only  cooks  and  house 
maids,  but  their  faces  were  not  roughened  like  those 
of  soldiers,  and  their  voices  and  footsteps  were  light 
and  soft.  Moreover,  they  gave  him  food  and  drink — 
for  which  he  would  pay  farmer  Gratz,  however — 
and  made  much  over  him. 

"We  had  royal  guests  last  night,"  said  the  youngest 
of  the  maids,  whom  they  called  Annette,  a  slender 
blond  girl. 

"Going  to  the  battle  front?" 

"Oh,  no.  They  were  going  the  other  way,  toward 
Metz,  and  perhaps  only  one  was  a  real  prince." 

"Maybe  this  prince  had  seen  enough  of  battles?" 

"I  cannot  say.  I  saw  him  only  once.  He  was  a 
large  man,  middle-aged,  and  he  had  a  great  brown 
beard." 

John's  whole  body  stiffened.  Questions  leaped 
to  his  lips,  but  he  compelled  his  muscles  to  relax 
and  by  a  great  effort  he  assumed  a  tone  of  indif 
ference. 

"What  was  the  prince's  name?"  he  asked  with 
apparent  carelessness. 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"I  don't  know,  but  the  people  around  him  were 
as  respectful  to  him  as  if  he  were  a  king.  There  were 
two  women  with  him,  but  the  master  himself  served 
these  two  alone  in  their  room." 

"But  you  caught  a  glimpse  of  one  of  the  women, 
the  younger,  Annette?"  said  Johanna. 

"So  I  did,  but  it  was  only  a  glimpse." 

"What  did  she  look  like?"  asked  John,  who  was 
trying  to  keep  down  the  beating  of  his  heart. 

"It  was  only  a  second,  but  I  saw  a  face  that  I  will 
never  forget.  She  was  very  pale,  but  she  had  beautiful 
blue  eyes  like  stars,  and  the  most  lovely  golden  hair 
that  ever  grew  in  the  world." 

"Julie !    My  Julie !"  groaned  John  under  his  breath. 

"What  did  you  say?" 

"I  was  merely  wondering  who  she  was." 

"I  wondered,  too,  and  so  did  all  of  us.  We  heard 
a  tale  that  she  was  a  princess,  a  niece  or  a  daughter, 
perhaps,  of  the  great  prince,  with  whom  she  traveled, 
and  we  heard  another  that  she  and  the  woman  with 
her  were  French  spies  of  the  most  dangerous  kind 
who  had  been  captured  and  who  were  being  taken 
into  Germany.  And  the  face  of  the  beautiful  young 
lady,  which  I  saw  for  only  a  moment,  was  French,  not 
German." 

John  felt  hot  and  then  cold  from  head  to  foot. 
Julie  a  spy !  Impossible !  Spies  were  shot  or  hanged, 
and  sometimes  women  were  no  exceptions.  How  could 
such  a  charge  be  brought  against  her?  And  yet  any 
thing  could  happen  in  such  a  vast  confused  war  as 
this.  Julie,  his  Julie  of  the  starry  blue  eyes  and  the 

154 


THE  PURSUIT 

deep  gold  hair  to  be  condemned  and  executed  as  a 
spy!  •  A  cold  shiver  seized  him  again. 

Then  came  sudden  enlightenment.  Auersperg  was 
medieval.  In  his  heart  he  arrogated  to  himself  the 
right  of  justice,  the  upper,  the  middle  and  the  low, 
and  all  other  kinds,  but  he  had  ability  and  mingled 
with  it  an  extreme  order  of  cunning.  Julie  of  the 
Red  Cross,  a  healer  of  wounds  and  disease,  would 
not  be  held  a  prisoner,  but  Julie,  a  spy,  would  be  kept 
a  close  captive,  and  her  life  would  be  in  the  hands 
of  the  general  commanding  those  who  had  taken  her. 
Oh,  it  was  cunning!  So  cunning  that  its  success 
seemed  complete,  and  he  thrilled  in  every  vein  with 
pain  and  anger. 

"Are  you  ill?"  asked  the  good  Johanna,  who  had 
noticed  the  sudden  deepening  of  his  pallor. 

"Not  at  all,  thank  you,"  he  replied,  forcing  him 
self  to  speak  in  a  level  tone.  "I  feel  splendidly.  All 
of  you  are  too  kind  to  me.  But  that  was  an  interest 
ing  story  about  the  prince  and  the  girl  whom  he 
brought  with  him,  who  might  be  either  a  relative  or 
a  captive." 

"I'm  thinking  she  must  have  been  his  niece,"  said 
romantic  Annette,  "but  I'm  sure  she  didn't  love  him. 
Perhaps  she  wanted  to  run  away  with  some  fine  young 
officer,  and  he  caught  her  and  brought  her  back." 

"When  did  they  leave?" 

"Very  early  this  morning.  They  came  in  automo 
biles,  but  neither  when  they  arrived  nor  when  they 
departed  was  the  lady  in  the  machine  with  the  prince. 
She  and  the  woman  with  her,  who  must  have  been 

155 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

her  servant,  were  in  a  small  machine  alone,  except 
for  the  chauffeur." 

"It's  a  strange  tale.     Which  way  did  they  go?" 

"Toward  Metz.  We  know  no  more.  The  prince 
did  not  look  like  a  man  who  would  tell  his  intentions 
to  everybody." 

"The  story  has  in  it  the  elements  of  romance," 
said  John.  "I  think  with  you,  Annette,  that  the  young 
lady  who  must  certainly  have  been  of  high  birth,  was 
being  carried  away  from  some  young  man  who  loved 
her  well." 

A  lively  discussion  followed.  Jorn^s  voice  had 
decided  the  opinion  of  the  kitchen.  It  had  been 
divided  hitherto,  but  it  was  not  now.  The  beautiful 
young  lady  with  the  starry  eyes  and  the  golden  hair 
had  certainly  been  torn  away,  and  the  sympathy  of 
cooks  and  maids  was  strongly  for  her.  While  they 
talked  John  tried  to  collect  his  thoughts.  After  the 
first  shock,  he  was  convinced  that  Julie's  life  was  in 
no  danger,  but  her  liberty  certainly  was.  Auersperg 
would  use  the  charge  that  she  was  a  spy  to  hold  her, 
and  he  was  a  powerful  man.  The  pressure  upon  her 
would  grow  heavier  and  heavier  all  the  time.  Could 
she  resist  it  ?  He  might  make  'her  think  that  the  fate 
of  a  spy  would  be  hers,  unless  she  chose  to  marry 
him. 

In  all  the  world,  since  Philip  would  lie  long  in 
the  hospital  with  a  wound,  there  was  but  one  man 
who  could  help  her.  And  it  was  he,  John  Scott.  Out 
of  the  depths  of  his  misery  and  despair  a  star  of  hope 
shot  up.  His  own  strong  heart  and  arm,  and  his  only, 

156 


THE  PURSUIT 

would  rescue  her.  Some  minds  gather  most  courage 
when  things  are  at  the  worst,  like  steel  hardening  in 
the  fire,  and  John's  was  markedly  of  this  type.  Since 
chance  had  brought  him  on  this  road,  and  to  the 
very  house  in  which  Julie  had  slept,  the  same  kindly 
chance  would  continue  to  guide  him  on  the  right 
way.  It  was  a  good  omen. 

The  twilight  outside,  cold  and  gray,  was  deepening 
into  night.  His  appetite  was  satisfied  and  he  felt 
buoyant  and  strong.  Had  he  obeyed  his  impulse  he 
would  have  started  on  the  road  to  Metz  in  pursuit. 
But  he  knew  that  it  was  folly  to  exhaust  himself  in 
such  a  manner  for  nothing.  Instead  he  told  Johanna 
that  he  would  go  to  the  stable  now  and  sleep.  Jacques, 
a  stalwart  hostler,  was  called  to  show  him  his  quarters, 
and  he  departed  with  all  their  good  wishes. 

Jacques  was  a  large  brown  peasant,  and  as  he  led 
the  way  to  the  stable  he  said : 

"They  told  me  your  name  was  Jean  Castel  from 
Lorraine?" 

"Yes,  back  of  Metz." 

"And  the  house  is  full  of  German  officers." 

He  pointed  to  the  windows  of  the  dining-room, 
which  were  ruddy  with  light.  Young  men  in  tight- 
fitting  uniforms,  their  blond  hair  pompadoured,  were 
outlined  vividly  against  the  glow. 

"Will  they  go  forward  or  will  they  come  back?" 
asked  Jacques  in  a  hoarse  whisper.  "Is  the  work  of 
Bismarck  to  stand  or  is  it  to  undo  itself?" 

John  believed  Jacques  to  be  a  French  sympathizer, 
anxious  for  an  opinion  that  would  agree  with  his 

157 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

hopes,  but  one  could  not  be  sure  in  such  times,  and 
it  behooved  him  above  all,  with  Julie  at  the  end  of 
his  journey,  to  be  careful.  So  he  merely  shrugged 
his  shoulders  and  replied : 

"I  know  not.  I'm  a  simple  buyer  and  seller  of 
horses.  I'm  a  much  better  judge  of  a  horse  than  of 
an  army.  I've  no  idea  which  side  is  the  stronger. 
I  don't  love  war,  and  I'm  going  away  from  it  as  fast 
as  I  can." 

Jacques  laughed. 

"Perhaps  it  will  follow  you,"  he  said.  "There  is 
war  everywhere  now,  or  soon  will  be.  I  hear  that 
it's  spreading  all  over  the  world." 

John  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  followed  Jacques 
up  a  ladder  into  a  loft  over  the  horses.  But  it  was 
not  a  bad  room.  It  had  two  small  iron  beds  and  it 
was  secure  from  wet  and  cold. 

"You  take  that,"  said  Jacques,  pointing  to  the  bed 
on  the  right.  "It  belonged  to  Fritz  who  was  the 
hostler  here  with  me.  He  went  to  the  army  at  the 
first  call  and  was  killed  at  Longwy.  Fritz  was  a 
German,  a  Saxon,  but  he  and  I  were  friends.  We 
had  worked  together  here  three  years.  I'd  have  been 
glad  if  the  bullets  had  spared  him.  The  horses  miss 
him,  too.  He  had  a  kind  hand  with  them  and  they 
liked  him.  Poor  Fritz!  You  sleep  in  the  bed  of  a 
good  man." 

"My  eyes  are  so  heavy  that  I  think  I'll  go  to  bed 
now." 

"The  bed  is  waiting  for  you.  It's  always  welcome 
to  one  who  has  walked  all  day  in  the  cold  as  you 

158 


THE  PURSUIT 

have.  I  have  more  work.  I  have  the  tasks  of  that 
poor  Fritz  and  my  own  to  do  now.  It  may  be  an 
hour,  two  hours  before  I'm  through,  but  if  you  sleep 
as  soundly  as  I  do  I'll  not  wake  you  up." 

John  sank  into  deep  slumber  almost  at  once  and 
knew  nothing  until  the  next  morning. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

INTO    GERMANY 

A  FROSTY  dawn  was  just  beginning  to  show 
through  the  single  window  that  lighted  up  the 
little  room.    It  opened  toward  the  east,  where 
the  light  was  pink  over  the  hills,  but  the  upper  sky 
was  yet  in  dusk.     John  sat  up  in  bed  and  rubbed 
the  last  sleep  out  of  his  eyes.    A  steady  moaning  sound 
made  him  think  he  was  hearing  again  the  thunder 
of  great  guns,  as  he  had  heard  it  days  and  nights 
at  the  Battle  of  the  Marne. 

The  low  ominous  mutter  came  from  a  point  toward 
the  north,  and  glancing  that  way,  although  he  knew 
his  eyes  would  meet  a  blank  wall,  he  saw  that  it  was 
only  Jacques,  snoring,  not  an  ordinary  common  snore, 
but  the  loud  resounding  trumpet  call  that  can  only 
come  from  a  mighty  chest  and  a  powerful  throat 
through  an  eagle  beak.  Jacques  was  stretched  flat 
upon  his  back  and  John  knew  that  he  must  have 
worked  extremely  hard  the  night  before  to  roar  with 
so  much  energy  through  his  nose  while  he  slept.  Well, 
Jacques  was  a  good  fellow  and  a  friend  of  France, 
the  nation  that  was  fighting  for  its  existence,  and  if 
he  wanted  to  do  it  he  might  snore  until  he  raised  the 
roof! 

160 


INTO  GERMANY 

John  sat  up.  He  saw  the  pink  on  the  eastern  hills 
turning  to  blue  and  then  spreading  to  the  higher  skies. 
The  day  was  going  to  be  clear  and  cold.  He  walked 
to  the  window  and  looked  up  at  the  skies,  seeking 
for  aeroplanes,  after  the  habit  that  had  now  grown 
upon  him.  But  the  sky  was  speckless  and  no  sounds 
came  from  the  Gratz  farmhouse.  Doubtless  the  Ger 
man  officers  quartered  there  were  sleeping  late,  know 
ing  that  they  had  no  need  to  hurry  to  the  front,  since 
the  fighting  in  the  hills  and  mountains  was  desultory. 

But  the  crisp  clear  blue  of  the  cold  morning  was 
wonderfully  suitable  to  the  hosts  of  the  air  and  they 
were  at  work.  Along  a  battle  front  of  five  hundred 
miles  in  the  west  and  of  seven  or  eight  hundred  in 
the  east  messages  were  flashing,  on  wires  by  tele 
phone  and  telegraph  and  then  on  nothing  but  the  pul 
sating  air. 

John,  who  had  been  compelled  to  deal  so  much 
with  these  invisible  agencies  felt  them  now  about  him. 
He  had  a  highly  sensitive  mind  like  a  photographic 
plate  that  registered  everything,  and  when  he  opened 
the  window  that  he  might  see  better  and  admit  the 
fresh  air,  he  did  not  have  to  reach  out  for  knowledge. 
It  came  and  registered  itself  upon  that  delicate  and 
imaginative  mind.  He  had  thought  so  much  and  he 
had  striven  so  hard  to  see  and  to  divine  what  lay 
before  him  that  he  felt  almost  able  to  send  messages 
of  his  own  through  the  air,  messages  of  hope  winging 
their  way  directly  to  Julie. 

The  mind  of  man  is  a  strange  thing.  It  may  be 
a  godlike  instrument,  the  powers  of  which  are  yet 

161 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

but  little  known.  John  did  not  believe  in  the  least 
in  anything  supernatural,  but  he  did  believe  in  the 
immense  and  unfathomed  power  of  the  natural. 
Alone,  and  in  the  early  dawn  with  silence  all  about 
him  it  seemed  that  he  heard  Julie  calling  to  him.  Her 
voice  traveled  like  the  wireless  on  the  pulsating  air. 
She  needed  him  and  she  turned  to  him  alone  for  aid. 
She  had  divined  in  some  manner  that  only  he  could 
help  her  and  he  would  come,  no  matter  what  the  risk. 
The  cry  was  registered  again  and  again  upon  his  sen 
sitive  soul,  and  always  he  sent  back  the  answer  that 
he  was  coming.  His  mind,  like  hers,  had  become  a 
wireless,  and  both  were  working. 

He  became  unconscious  of  time  and  place.  He  no 
longer  saw  the  blue  sky,  but  he  stretched  out  his  arms 
and  called: 

"I  am  coming!" 

"Coming?  What  do  you  mean  by  coming?  Who 
is  it  you're  telling?" 

John  came  out  of  his  dream,  or  the  misty  region 
between  here  and  nowhere,  and  turned  to  Jacques, 
who  in  the  process  of  awakening  at  that  moment  had 
heard  his  words  which  were  spoken  in  French. 

"I  was  just  talking  to  the  air,"  replied  John  a  little 
uncertainly.  "Fine  mornings  appeal  to  me,  and  I  was 
telling  this  one  that  I'd  soon  come  out  into  it." 

Jacques  continued  to  awaken.  He  was  a  big  man 
who  worked  hard  and  who  slept  heavily.  Rousing 
from  sleep  was  a  task  accomplished  by  degrees  and  it 
took  some  time.  He  had  heard  John  with  one  ear 
and  now  he  heard  with  the  other.  His  right  eye 

162 


INTO  GERMANY 

opened  slowly  and  then  the  left.  The  blood  became 
more  active  in  his  brain  and  in  a  minute  or  two  he 
was  awake  all  over. 

"Telling  the  morning  air  that  you're  coming  out 
into  it,  eh  Castel?"  he  said  as  he  put  one  foot  on 
the  floor.  "You're  a  poet,  I  see.  You  don't  look  it, 
but  being  French,  as  you  Lorrainers  are,  it  makes  you 
fond  of  poetry." 

"I  do  believe  you  have  it  right,  Jacques,"  said  John, 
"but  if  I  can  get  my  breakfast  now  I  mean  to  go 
upon  the  road  at  once." 

"Oh,  you  can  get  it,  Castel.  The  whole  kitchen 
has  fallen  in  love  with  you.  I  found  that  out  last 
night  after  you  had  gone  away.  That  little  Annette 
told  me  so." 

"It  was  to  tease  you,"  said  John,  who  understood 
at  once  and  who  was  willing  to  fib  in  a  good  cause. 
"I  saw  her  watching  through  a  window  a  fine  big 
fellow,  exactly  your  size,  age  and  appearance,  and 
with  the  same  name.  I  said  something  about  his 
being  a  hulking  hostler  and  she  turned  upon  me  like  a 
hawk." 

"Now,  did  she?"  exclaimed  Jacques,  a  great  smile 
spreading  slowly  across  his  face. 

"She  did.  Told  me  it  was  a  poor  return  for  their 
kindness  to  criticize  a  better  man." 

"Ah,  that  Annette  is  bright  and  quick.  She  can 
see  through  a  man  at  one  look.  Castel,  I  like  you, 
and  I  hope  you'll  get  to  Metz  without  trouble.  But 
keep  a  civil  and  a  slow  tongue  in  your  mouth.  Don't 
speak  until  the  Germans  speak  to  you,  and  then  tell 

163 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

the  truth  without  stammering.  I'll  go  to  the  kitchen 
with  you,  as  my  work  begins  early." 

John  knew  that  he  had  a  friend,  and  the  two  left 
the  stable  together.  But  he  was  not  thinking  much 
then  of  the  Gratz  farm  or  of  anybody  upon  it.  He 
had  sent  his  soul  on  before,  and  he  meant  that  his 
body  should  catch  up  with  it. 

Johanna,  Annette  and  the  master,  Gratz  himself, 
were  in  the  kitchen.  He  ate  a  good  breakfast  with 
Jacques,  paid  Gratz  for  food  and  lodging,  and  put 
ting  his  blankets  and  knapsack  upon  his  back,  took 
once  more  to  the  road.  Jacques  repeated  his  good 
advice  to  be  polite  to  men  to  whom  it  paid  to  be 
polite,  and  Annette,  standing  by  the  side  of  the  stalwart 
hostler,  waved  him  farewell. 

The  slush,  frozen  the  night  before,  had  not  yet 
melted,  and  John  walked  rapidly  along  the  broad  firm 
highway,  elated  and  bold.  Julie  had  called  to  him. 
He  would  not  reason  with  himself,  and  ask  how  or 
why  it  had  been  done,  but  he  felt  it.  He  liked  to 
believe  that  wireless  signals  had  passed  between  them. 
Anyway  he  was  going  to  believe  it,  and  hence  his 
heart  was  light  and  his  spirit  strong. 

He  passed  sentinels  posted  along  the  road,  but  his 
passport  was  always  sufficient,  and  his  pleasant  man 
ner  bred  a  pleasant  manner  in  return.  Soon  there 
was  nothing  but  a  line  of  smoke  to  mark  where  the 
Gratz  farm  stood,  but  he  carried  with  him  good 
memories  of  it.  He  hoped  that  the  romance  of  Jacques 
and  Annette  would  end  happily.  In  truth  he  was  quite 
sure  that  it  would,  and  he  began  to  whistle  softly  to 

164 


INTO  GERMANY 

himself,  a  trick  that  he  had  caught  from  General 
Vaugirard. 

John  had  no  certainty  that  he  would  enter  Metz, 
which  must  now  be  less  of  a  city  than  a  great  fortress 
with  a  powerful  garrison.  But  he  felt  sure  that  he 
could  at  least  penetrate  to  the  outskirts  and  there  find 
more  trace  of  Auersperg.  A  prince  and  man  of  his 
social  importance  could  scarcely  pass  through  the  city 
without  being  noticed,  and  there  would  be  gossip 
among  the  soldiers.  Fortunately  he  had  been  in  Metz 
twice  and  he  knew  the  romantic  old  city  at  the  con 
fluence  of  the  Moselle  and  the  Seille,  dominated  by 
its  magnificent  Gothic  cathedral.  After  all  he  might 
overtake  Auersperg  there  and  in  some  manner  achieve 
his  task.  Chance  took  a  wide  range  in  so  great  a 
war  and  nothing  was  impossible. 

He  was  now  approaching  the  line  between  France 
and  Germany,  and  Metz  lay  only  eleven  miles  beyond. 
The  beauty  of  the  clear  cold  day  endured.  There  was 
snow  on  the  hills,  but  the  brilliant  sun  touched  it  with 
a  luminous  golden  haze,  and  the  crisp  air  was  the 
breath  of  life. 

He  swung  along  at  a  great  gait  for  one  who  walked. 
Life  for  months  without  a  roof  had  been  hard,  but 
it  had  toughened  wonderfully  those  whom  it  did  not 
kill,  and  John  with  a  magnificent  constitution  was  one 
of  those  who  had  profited  most.  He  felt  no  weariness 
now  although  he  had  come  many  miles. 

About  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  he  sat  on  a  stone 
by  the  roadside  and  ate  with  the  appetite  of  vigorous 
youth  good  food  from  his  knapsack.  While  he  was 

165 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

there  a  German  sergeant,  with  about  twenty  men  in 
wagons  going  toward  Metz,  stopped  and  spoke  to  him. 

"Hey,  you  on  the  stone,  what  are  you  doing?" 
asked  the  sergeant. 

John  cut  off  a  fresh  piece  of  sausage  with  his  clasp 
knife  and  answered  briefly  and  truthfully: 

"Eating." 

The  sergeant  had  a  broad,  red  and  merry  face,  and 
being  a  man  of  good  humor  he  was  not  offended. 

"So  I  see,"  he  said,  "but  that  wasn't  what  I  meant." 

John,  without  another  word,  took  out  his  passport, 
handed  it  to  him  and  went  on  eating.  The  sergeant 
examined  it,  handed  it  back  to  him  and  said : 

"Correct." 

"I  show  it  to  everybody,"  said  John.  "When  a  man 
speaks  to  me  I  don't  care  who  he  is,  or  what  he  is,  I 
hand  it  to  him.  I,  Jean  Castel,  as  you  see  by  the  name 
on  the  passport,  don't  want  trouble  with  anybody." 

"And  a  wise  fellow  you  are,  Castel.  I'm  Otto 
Scheller,  a  sergeant  in  the  service  of  his  Imperial 
Majesty  and  the  Fatherland." 

"You  look  as  if  you  had  seen  much  of  war,  Sergeant 
Scheller,  but  I  am  a  dealer  in  horses  and  I  am  happiest 
where  the  bullets  are  fewest." 

"It's  an  honest  confession,  but  it  does  not  bespeak 
a  high  heart." 

"Perhaps  not,  but  sometimes  a  horse-dealer  is  more 
useful  than  a  soldier.  For  instance,  the  off  horse  of 
the  front  wagon  has  picked  up  a  stone  in  his  left  hind 
foot,  and  if  it's  not  taken  out  he'll  go  lame  long  before 
you  reach  Metz." 

166 


INTO  GERMANY 

"Donnerwetter !  But  it's  true.  You  do  know  some 
thing  about  horses  and  you  have  an  eye  in  your  head. 
Here  you,  Heinrich,  take  that  stone  out,  quick,  or 
it  won't  be  good  for  you !"  . 

"And  the  right  horse  of  the  third  wagon  has 
glanders.  The  swelling  is  just  beginning  to  show 
below  the  jaw.  It's  contagious,  you  know.  You'd 
better  turn  him  loose,  or  all  your  horses  will  die." 

"Donner  und  blitzen!  See  Fritz,  if  it's  true.  It's 
so,  is  it  ?  Then  release  the  poor  animal  as  Castel  says, 
and  put  in  one  of  the  extras.  See,  you  Castel,  you're 
a  wizard,  you  hardly  glanced  at  the  horses,  and  you 
saw  what  we  didn't  see,  although  we've  been  with 
them  all  day." 

"I've  grown  up  with  horses.  It's  my  business  to 
know  everything  about  them,  and  maybe  your  trade 
before  the  war  didn't  bring  you  near  them." 

Scheller  threw  back  his  great  head  and  laughed. 

"If  a  horse  had  approached  where  I  worked,"  he 
said,  "much  good  beer  would  have  been  spilt.  I  was 
the  head  waiter  in  a  restaurant  on  the  Unter  den 
Linden.  Ah,  the  happy  days !  Oh,  the  glorious  street ! 
and  here  it's  nothing  but  march,  march,  and  shoot, 
shoot!  Three  of  my  best  waiters  have  been  killed 
already.  And  the  other  lads  are  no  horsemen  either. 
That  big  Fritz  over  there  made  toys,  Joseph  drove  a 
taxicab,  August  was  conductor  on  a  train  to  Charlot- 
tenberg,  and  Eitel  was  porter  in  a  hotel.  We're  all 
from  Berlin,  and  will  you  tell  us,  Castel,  how  soon  we 
can  take  Paris  and  London  and  go  back  to  the  Unter 
den  Linden?" 

167 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

John  shook  his  head. 

"There  are  about  fifteen  hundred  million  people 
in  the  world  who  are  asking  that  question,  Otto 
Scheller,"  he  replied,  "and  out  of  all  the  fifteen  hun 
dred  millions  not  one  can  answer  it.  But  I  will  ask 
you  a  question  in  return." 

"What  is  it?" 

"Will  you  give  me  a  ride  in  one  of  your  wagons 
to  Metz?" 

"Why,  certainly,"  replied  Scheller.  "Your  passport 
is  in  good  order,  and  we  can  take  you  to  the  first  line 
of  fortifications.  There  you'll  meet  high  officers  and 
you'll  have  to  make  more  statements,  because  Metz, 
as  you  know,  is  one  of  the  most  powerful  fortresses 
in  Europe." 

"I  know ;  why  shouldn't  I,  a  Lorrainer,  know  ?  But 
my  passport  will  take  me  in.  Meanwhile,  I  thank 
you,  Otto  Scheller,  for  the  kindness  you're  showing 
me." 

"All  right,  jump  in,  and  off  we  go." 

It  was  a  provision  wagon,  drawn  by  stout  Perch- 
erons,  which  John  felt  sure  had  been  bred  in  France, 
and  which  he  also  felt  sure  had  never  been  paid  for 
by  German  money.  The  wagon  was  empty  now,  evi 
dently  having  delivered  its  burden  nearer  the  battle 
lines,  and  John  found  a  comfortable  seat  beside  the 
sergeant,  while  a  stout  Pickelhaube  drove. 

"Looks  like  peace,  Castel,"  said  the  sergeant,  wav 
ing  his  hand  at  the  landscape,  "but  things  are  not 
always  what  they  seem." 

"How  so?" 

1 68 


INTO  GERMANY 

"See  the  hills  across  there.  The  French  hold  part 
of  them,  and  often  the  artillery  goes  boom!  boom! 
They  threaten  an  attack  on  Metz.  We  shall  hear  the 
cannon  before  long." 

John  looked  long  at  the  hills,  high,  white  and  silent, 
but  presently  they  began  to  groan  and  mutter  as 
Scheller  had  predicted  they  would.  Flashes  of  flame 
appeared  and  giant  shells  were  emptied  like  gusts  of 
lava  from  a  volcano.  One  burst  in  the  road  about 
three  hundred  yards  in  front  of  them,  and  tore  a  hole 
so  deep  that  they  were  compelled  to  drive  around  it. 

"The  French  are  good  with  the  guns,"  said  Scheller, 
regarding  the  excavation  meditatively,  "but  of  course 
it  was  by  mere  chance  that  the  shell  struck  in  the 
road." 

John  felt  a  light  and  momentary  chill.  It  would 
certainly  be  the  irony  of  fate  if  on  his  great  quest  he 
were  smitten  down  by  a  missile  from  his  own  army. 
But  no  others  struck  near  them,  although  the  inter 
mittent  battle  of  artillery  in  the  hills  continued. 

Sergeant  Scheller  paid  no  attention  to  the  distant 
cannon  fire,  to  which  he  had  grown  so  used  long  since 
that  he  regarded  it  as  one  of  the  ordinary  accompani 
ments  of  life,  like  the  blowing  of  the  wind.  He  was  in  a 
good  humor  and  he  talked  agreeably  much  about  battle 
and  march,  although  he  betrayed  no  military  secrets, 
chiefly  because  he  had  none  to  betray. 

"I  march  here  and  I  march  there,"  he  said,  "I 
and  my  men  shoot  at  a  certain  point,  and  from  a  cer 
tain  point  we're  shot  at.  That's  all  I  know." 

"And  that,  I  take  it,  is  the  cathedral  in  Metz,"  said 
169 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE 

John,  pointing  toward  the  top  of  a  lofty  spire  show 
ing  against  the  blue. 

"So  it  is,  Castel,  and  here  you'll  have  to  show  your 
passport  again.  We're  approaching  the  fortifications. 
I  couldn't  tell  you  about  them  if  I  would.  We  drive 
along  a  narrow  road  between  high  earthworks  and  we 
see  nothing." 

Their  entry  into  Metz  was  slow  and  long.  John 
was  compelled  to  show  his  passport  again  and  again, 
and  he  answered  innumerable  questions,  many  search 
ing  and  pointed,  but  again  he  was  thrice  lucky  in 
knowing  the  town  and  something  about  Lorraine. 

Now  that  he  was  inside,  with  a  powerful  German 
army  all  about  him,  he  must  decide  soon  what  to  do. 
Fortunately  he  had  made  a  friend  of  Scheller  who 
advised  him  to  go  to  a  little  inn  near  the  Moselle,  much 
frequented  by  thrifty  peasants,  and  John  concluded 
to  take  his  advice. 

"Good-by,  Castel,"  said  Scheller,  reaching  out  a 
huge  fist.  "I  like  you  and  I  hope  we'll  meet  in  Paris 
soon." 

John  took  the  fist  in  a  hand  not  as  large  as 
Scheller's,  but  almost  as  powerful,  and  shook  it. 

"Here's  to  the  meeting  in  Paris,"  he  said,  but  he 
added  under  his  breath,  "may  it  happen,  with  you  as 
my  unwounded  prisoner." 

He  left  Schdler  after  thanks  for  the  ride,  and  found 
his  way  to  the  Inn  of  the  Golden  Lion,  which  was 
crowded  with  stout  farmers  and  peasants.  It  was 
old-fashioned,  with  a  great  room  where  most  of  the 
men  sat  on  benches  before  a  huge  fire,  which  cast  a 

170 


INTO  GERMANY 

cheerful  glow  over  ruddy  faces.  Some  were  eating 
sausage  and  drinking  beer,  and  there  was  plenty  of 
talk,  mostly  in  German. 

John  modestly  found  a  place  near  the  fire  for  which 
he  was  very  grateful,  and  ordered  beer  and  cheese. 
Apparently  he  was  nothing  but  a  peasant  going  about 
his  own  humble  business,  but  he  listened  keenly  to 
everything  that  was  said,  reckoning  that  someone  ulti 
mately  would  mention  the  Prince  of  Auersperg,  or 
could  be  drawn  into  speaking  of  a  man  of  so  much 
consequence  who  might  be  present  in  Metz. 

He  attracted  little  attention,  as  he  sat  warming 
himself  before  the  fire  and  listening.  People  of  French 
sympathies  might  be  in  the  crowd,  but  if  so  they 
were  silent,  because  nearly  all  the  talkers  were  speak 
ing  of  German  success.  It  was  true  that  they  had 
been  turned  back  from  Paris,  but  it  meant  a  delay 
only,  they  would  soon  advance  again,  and  this  time 
they  would  crush  France.  Meantime,  von  Hinden- 
burg  was  smashing  the  Russians  to  pieces.  John  smiled 
as  he  gazed  into  the  crackling  fire.  After  all,  the 
Germans  were  not  supreme.  They  knew  a  vast  deal 
about  war,  but  others  could  learn  and  did  learn.  They 
were  splendid  soldiers,  but  there  were  others  just  as 
good  and  they  had  proved  it. 

Men  came  and  went  through  the  Inn  of  the  Golden 
Lion.  Sometimes  soldiers  and  officers  as  well  as 
civilians  sought  its  food  and  fire.  The  day  had  turned 
darker,  full  of  raw  cold,  and  a  light  hail  was  falling. 
John  was  glad  to  have  a  place  in  the  inn.  He  re 
flected  that  a  man's  good  luck  and  bad  luck  in  the 

171 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

long  run  were  about  even,  and,  after  so  much  bad 
luck,  the  good  luck  should  be  coming  his  way.  He 
would  certainly  remain  in  the  inn  that  night  if  he 
could,  and  a  bench  before  the  fire  would  be  a  sufficient 
bed  for  the  peasant  he  seemed  to  be,  at  such  a  time, 
with  the  city  full  of  troops,  and  the  French  batteries 
almost  near  enough  to  be  heard. 

More  officers  were  coming  in  now.  Some  of  them 
stood  before  the  great  fire,  warming  themselves  and 
drying  their  uniforms,  the  hail  having  begun  to  drive 
harder.  He  thought  he  might  see  some  one  whom  he 
knew.  It  was  possible  that  von  Arnheim,  the  young 
prince  of  whom  he  had  such  pleasant  memories,  was 
in  Metz,  and  it  was  possible  also  that  he  might  come 
to  the  Inn  of  the  Golden  Lion.  And  there  was  young 
Kratzek,  who  he  knew  had  been  exchanged.  Some 
chance  might  make  him,  too,  enter  the  inn,  but  John's 
second  thought  told  him  the  fulfillment  of  his  wish 
would  be  folly.  They  were  his  official  enemies  and 
must  seize  him  if  he  made  himself  known  to  them. 
He  was  merely  lonesome,  longing  for  the  sight  of  a 
familiar  face. 

His  own  appearance  had  been  changed  greatly  by 
a  stubby  young  beard  that  called  aloud  for  a  razor. 
Clad  in  a  peasant's  garb,  and  with  a  cap  drawn  down 
over  his  face  Carstairs  and  Wharton  themselves  might 
have  passed  without  knowing  him. 

Although  the  young  Germans  did  not  appear,  one 
whom  John  expected  least  came.  A  man  of  medium 
size,  built  compactly,  and  with  a  short  brown  beard, 
trimmed  neatly  to  a  point,  walked  briskly  through  the 

172 


INTO  GERMANY 

room,  and  spread  out  cold  hands  before  the  flames. 
John  was  dozing  in  his  chair,  but  the  man's  walk 
and  manner  roused  him  at  once.  They  seemed  fa 
miliar,  and  a  glance  at  the  face  showed  him  that  it 
was  Weber. 

He  resisted  a  powerful  impulse  to  call  to  him  or 
to  signal  to  him  in  some  manner.  The  impulse  was 
strong  to  recognize  the  appearance  of  a  friend,  but 
he  understood  the  deadly  danger  of  it.  He  was  a  spy 
and  so  was  Weber.  By  recognition  each  might  betray 
the  other,  and  it  was  best  that  he  should  not  attract 
the  Alsatian's  attention  in  any  way.  So  he  pretended 
to  doze  again,  although  he  was  really  watchful. 

Weber  stood  by  the  fire  a  little  while,  until  he  was 
warm.  Then  he  sat  down  in  one  of  the  chairs  and 
called  for  beer  and  sausage,  which  he  drank  and  ate 
slowly  and  with  evident  relish.  His  eye  roved  about 
the  room  and  once  or  twice  fell  upon  John,  but  d'VI 
not  linger  there.  Evidently  he  did  not  recognize  the 
peasant  with  the  stubby  growth  of  young  beard.  Nor 
did  he  appear  to  know  anyone  else  in  the  room,  and, 
after  a  few  inquiring  glances,  he  seemed  to  be  busy 
with  his  own  thoughts. 

A  half-hour  or  so  later  Weber  went  into  the  street, 
and  John,  muttering  that  he  wished  a  little  fresh  air, 
rose  and  followed.  He  had  in  mind  only  a  vague 
idea  of  speaking  with  Weber,  and  of  finding  out 
something  about  Auersperg,  of  whose  movements  the 
Alsatian  was  likely  to  know.  But  when  he  was  outside 
Weber  had  vanished.  He  walked  up  the  street,  only 
a  little  distance  in  either  direction,  because  the  soldiers 

173 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

were  thick  everywhere,  and  their  officers  wanted  ex 
planations.  Moreover,  he  recognized  the  futility  of 
search.  Weber  was  gone  as  completely  as  if  he  had 
been  snatched  up  into  the  air  by  an  invisible  hand, 
and  John  felt  that  he  had  missed  an  opportunity. 

He  took  courage,  nevertheless,  and  dismissing 
Weber  from  his  mind,  he  made  a  renewed  effort.  The 
precious  passport  once  more  came  into  play,  and  grad 
ually,  he  made  his  way  toward  the  finest  hotel  in 
Metz.  If  Auersperg  was  still  in  the  city  it  was  likely 
that  a  man  of  his  temper  and  luxurious  habits  would 
be  at  this  hotel. 

There  were  sentinels  about  the  building  and  it  was 
crowded  with  guests  of  high  degree.  The  assemblage 
here  was  altogether  different  from  that  of  the  Inn  of 
the  Golden  Lion.  Generals  and  colonels  were  pass 
ing,  and  John  learned  from  a  soldier  that  a  prince 
cf'  the  empire  was  inside.  His  heart  beat  hard.  It 
could  be  none  other  than  Auersperg,  and  using  every 
possible  excuse  he  remained  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
hotel. 

At  last  while  he  stood  there  he  saw  a  face  appear 
at  an  upper  window,  and  his  heart  gave  a  great  leap. 
Despite  the  falling  dusk,  the  strangeness  of  the  place 
and  the  distance,  the  single  faint  glimpse  was  suf 
ficient.  It  was  Julie.  He  could  not  mistake  that  crown 
of  wonderful  golden  hair  in  which  slight  coppery  tints 
appeared,  and  the  face,  pale  now. 

John  impulsively  reached  out  his  arms,  but  she  could 
not  see  the  young  peasant  who  stood  afar,  watching 
her.  He  dropped  his  arms,  caution  again  warning 

174 


INTO  GERMANY 

him,  but  he  stood  gazing.  Perhaps  it  was  a  powerful, 
mysterious  current  sent  from  his  heart  that  drew  her 
at  last.  She  looked  in  his  direction.  John  knew  that 
she  could  not  recognize  him  there  in  the  gloom,  but, 
snatching  off  his  cap,  and,  reckless  of  risk  he  waved 
it  three  times  about  his  head.  It  was  a  signal.  He 
did  not  know  whether  she  could  see  it,  nor  if,  see 
ing,  could  she  surmise  what  it  meant,  but  he  hoped 
vaguely  that  something  might  come  of  it.  In  any 
event,  it  was  a  relief  to  his  feelings  and  it  brought 
hope. 

After  the  signal  he  forgot  to  put  the  cap  on  his 
head,  but  stood  with  it  dangling  in  his  hand. 

"Hey,  you  fool  I"  said  a  rough  German  voice,  "why 
do  you  stand  there  staring,  with  your  cap  in  your 
hand,  and  your  head  bare,  inviting  the  quick  death 
of  pneumonia  that  an  idiot  like  you  deserves?" 

Although  the  voice  was  rough  it  was  not  unkindly, 
and  as  John  came  out  of  his  dreams  and  wheeled  about 
he  saw  again  the  rubicund  face  of  Sergeant  Scheller. 

"I  was  looking  at  the  hotel,"  he  replied  with  per 
fect  composure,  as  he  replaced  his  cap,  "and  I  saw 
one  of  our  great  generals  pass  in  at  the  door.  At 
least  I  thought  him  such  by  his  uniform,  and  taking 
off  my  cap  to  honor  him  I  forgot  to  put  in  back 
again." 

Scheller  burst  into  a  roar. 

"Why,  it's  our  Castel  once  more!"  he  exclaimed. 
"Good,  honest,  simple,  patriotic  Castel!  You  can 
take  off  your  cap  when  a  general  passes,  but  you 
needn't  keep  it  ofT  after  he's  gone." 

175 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"I  thought  it  might  be  our  great  Kaiser  himself." 

"I  don't  think  he's  in  Metz,  although  he  may  be 
near,  but  your  act  does  credit  to  your  loyalty,  Castel." 

John  glanced  up  at  the  window.  Julie  was  gone 
and  the  twilight  was  coming  over  city  and  fortress. 
Yet  he  had  seen  her,  and  he  felt  that  he  would  be 
able  to  follow  Auersperg  wherever  he  might  go.  He 
had  no  doubt  that  the  prince  would  leave  in  the  morn 
ing,  traveling  swiftly  by  automobile,  but  he,  plodding 
on  foot,  or  in  any  way  he  could,  would  surely  follow. 
It  gave  him  courage  to  remember  the  old  fable  of 
the  tortoise  and  the  hare,  a  fable  which  doubtless  has 
proved  a  vain  consolation  to  many  a  man,  far  behind 
in  the  race. 

"Come  to  the  Inn  of  the  Golden  Lion,"  he  said  to 
Scheller,  for  whom  he  had  a  genuine  friendly  feel 
ing,  "and  take  a  glass  of  beer  with  me.  I  was  wan 
dering  about,  and  it  interested  me  to  see  the  great 
people  go  into  the  hotel  or  come  out." 

"A  half-dozen  of  our  famous  generals  are  there," 
said  Scheller,  who  seemed  to  be  both  well  informed 
now  and  talkative. 

"Some  one  told  me  that  the  great  Prince  Karl  of 
'Auersperg  was  there,  too,"  said  John  at  random. 

"So  he  is,"  replied  Scheller,  seeing  nothing  unusual 
in  the  question,  "and  he  has  with  him  under  close 
guard  the  two  French  women  spies.  It's  quite  certain 
that  he  will  carry  them  into  Austria,  perhaps  to  Salz 
burg  or  some  place  near  there." 

It  was  precious  information,  given  casually  by  a 
chance  acquaintance,  and  John  believed  that  it  was 

176 


INTO  GERMANY 

true.  It  was  in  the  region  of  Salzburg  that  his  great 
Odyssey  had  begun,  and  now  it  seemed  that  chance, 
after  many  a  curve  through  the  smoke  of  battle,  was 
taking  him  back  there. 

"I'm  off  duty,  Castel,  and  I'll  be  glad  to  go  with 
you,"  he  heard  Scheller  saying.  "Beer  is  always  wel 
come  and  I  think  you're  a  good  fellow.  It's  too  bad 
the  blood  of  your  forefathers  was  French,  but  it's 
had  a  German  stiffening  under  our  rule." 

"The  German  spirit  is  strong  and  the  Kaiser's 
armies  are  mighty,"  said  John  sincerely.  "Now  we'll 
hurry  to  the  inn  and  have  our  beer." 

Scheller  was  not  loath,  and  before  the  great  fire 
John  toasted  his  health  in  a  huge  foaming  mug,  and 
Scheller  toasted  back  again.  Then  the  sergeant  gave 
him  a  grip  of  his  mighty  hand  and  told  him 
good-by. 

"I  like  you,  Castel,  lad,"  he  said,  "and  whatever 
you  want  I  hope  you'll  get  it." 

John,  imaginative  at  all  times,  but  with  his  nerves 
keyed  to  the  highest  pitch  now,  took  it  as  an  omen. 
The  kindly  Scheller  little  dreamed  what  he  sought, 
but  the  good  wishes  of  a  sergeant  might  have  as  much 
effect  as  those  of  a  general  or  a  prince  with  the 
Supreme  Power. 

"Farewell,  lad,"  said  Scheller  again,  and,  "Fare 
well,"  John  responded. 

When  he  was  gone  John  sank  back  into  his  chair. 
He  had  not  been  able  to  secure  for  the  night  more 
than  a  bench  in  the  great  room,  but  with  his  blankets 
he  could  do  very  well.  Besides,  there  was  a  certain 

177 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

advantage  in  the  place,  as  a  dozen  others  would  be 
sleeping  in  it,  making  it  a  news  center. 

He  bought  a  supper  of  cheese  and  sausage,  and 
continued  to  watch  the  people  who  came  to  the  Inn 
of  the  Golden  Lion.  He  thought  Weber  might  re 
turn,  and  if  so  he  meant  to  speak  with  him,  if  a 
possible  chance  should  occur,  but  there  was  no  sign 
of  the  Alsatian. 

The  heat  and  the  smoke  made  him  doze,  by  and 
by,  and  knowing  that  it  would  be  long  before  the 
room  could  be  cleared,  he  resigned  himself  at  last  to 
sleep,  a  circumstance  that  attracted  no  attention  as 
others  also  were  sleeping  in  their  chairs. 

When  he  awoke  it  was  past  midnight,  and  only 
those  who  were  to  make  it  a  bedroom  remained.  Then 
he  stretched  his  hardy  form,  wrapped  in  his  blankets, 
on  a  bench  beside  the  wall  and  fell  promptly  into  the 
deep  slumber  of  the  young  and  just. 

He  awoke  once  or  twice  in  the  night  and  heard 
healthy  snores  about  him.  German  civilians  and  Lor- 
rainers  were  asleep  on  the  benches  and  they  slept 
well.  The  fire  in  the  great,  ancient  fireplace  had 
burned  low,  but  a  fine  bed  of  coals  glowed  there  and 
cast  quivering  lights  over  the  sleepers.  John  thought 
he  heard  from  afar  that  mutter  of  the  guns,  with 
which  he  was  so  familiar,  but  he  did  not  know  whether 
it  was  fancy  or  reality,  as  he  always  returned  quickly 
to  his  deep  slumber. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE    GREAT    CASTLE 

JOHN  himself  the  next  morning  saw  the  depart 
ure  of  Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg  and  his  suite, 
and  it  was  not  altogether  chance  that  brought 
it  about.  He  was  aroused  as  the  other  sleepers  were 
by  the  waiters  who  were  preparing  the  room  for  the 
day.  The  Inn  of  the  Golden  Lion  was  doing  a  rushing 
business  in  a  town  full  of  German  troops,  who  ate 
well  and  drank  well  and  who  paid. 

His  night's  rest  was  refreshing  to  both  mind  and 
body,  and,  after  a  good  breakfast,  he  went  once  more 
toward  the  hotel  which  was  frequented  by  the  high 
born  and  the  very  highborn.  He  had  no  plan  in  mind, 
but  he  knew  that  the  magnet  drawing  him  was  Julie. 

The  morning  was  clear  and  cold,  the  streets  slip 
pery,  but  vivid  with  life,  mostly  military.  He  carried 
his  knapsack  full  of  food,  and  his  blankets  in  a  pack 
on  his  back,  which  his  passport  showed  to  be  his 
right  as  a  peasant  trading  in  horses,  and  returning 
from  the  front  to  his  home  for  a  fresh  supply.  But 
there  was  little  danger  to  him  at  present,  as  there 
were  many  other  peasants  and  farmer  folk  in  Metz 
on  one  errand  or  another. 

He  walked  about  the  hotel,  and  presently  noticed 
179 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

signs  of  bustle.  Several  automobiles,  one  of  much 
magnificence,  drove  up  to  the  entrance  and  halted 
there,  obviously  awaiting  a  company  of  import 
ance.  John  had  no  doubt  from  the  first  that  it 
was  the  equipage  of  the  Prince  of  Auersperg.  No 
one  else  would  travel  in  such  state,  and  he  would 
stay  to  see  him  go  with  his  prisoners.  Others  drawn 
by  curiosity  joined  him  and  they  and  the  young  peasant 
stood  very  near. 

John  saw  the  door  open,  and  a  porter  of  great 
stature,  clad  in  a  uniform,  heavy  with  gold  lace,  ap 
pear,  bowing  profoundly.  It  was  often  difficult  to 
tell  a  head  porter  from  a  field  marshal,  but  in  this 
case  the  man's  deferential  attitude  not  only  indicated 
the  difference,  but  the  fact  also  that  Auersperg  was 
coming. 

The  prince,  preceded  by  two  young  men  in  close- 
fitting  blue-gray  uniforms,  came  out.  John  was  bound 
to  confess  once  more  that  he  was  a  fine-looking  man, 
large,  bearded  magnificently,  and  imposing  in  ap 
pearance  and  manner.  His  effect  at  a  state  ball  or 
a  reception  would  be  highly  decorative,  and  many  a 
managing  American  mother  would  have  been  glad 
to  secure  him  as  a  son-in-law,  provided  the  present 
war  did  not  make  such  medieval  survivals  unfash 
ionable. 

Auersperg  entered  his  automobile,  a  very  dark  red 
limousine  of  great  size,  and  he  was  shut  from  John's 
view,  save  only  his  full  beard  glimmering  faintly 
through  the  glass.  More  men  came,  soldiers  or  at 
tendants,  and  among  them  was  Antoine  Picard, 

180 


THE  GREAT  CASTLE 

gigantic  and  sullen.  His  arms  were  unbound  and  he 
went  with  the  others  willingly.  Perhaps  Auersperg 
had  divined  that  he  would  not  attempt  to  escape,  as 
long  as  Julie  was  in  his  hands. 

Then  came  the  two  women,  Julie  first,  and  John 
heard  about  him  the  muttered  exclamation:  "The 
French  spies!"  He  knew  that  this  belief  had  taken 
strong  hold  of  the  soldiers  and  people  who  stood  about. 
Women,  when  they  chose  to  be,  were  the  most  dan 
gerous  of  all  spies  and  the  watchers  regarded  them 
with  intense  curiosity. 

Neither  was  veiled.  Julie  was  erect,  and  her  chin 
high.  John  saw  that  the  girl  had  become  a  woman, 
matured  by  hardship  and  danger,  and  she  looked  more 
beautiful  than  ever  to  him  that  morning.  Her  cheeks 
were  pale  and  tiny  curls  of  the  deep  golden  hair  es 
caped  from  her  hood  and  clustered  about  her  temples. 
John's  heart  swam  with  pity.  Truly,  she  was  a  bird 
in  the  hands  of  the  fowler. 

She  gave  a  glance  half  appealing  and  half  defiant 
at  the  people,  but  the  stalwart  Suzanne  who  followed 
her  was  wholly  grim  and  challenging.  Then  some 
thing  strange  occurred.  John  had  the  most  intense 
anxiety  for  her  to  look  at  him.  He  had  no  belief 
whatever  in  anything  supernatural,  but  sound,  intel 
ligible  words  were  made  to  travel  on  waves  of  air, 
and  it  was  barely  possible  in  this  unexplored  world 
that  thought  too  might  be  propelled  in  the  same  way. 

Almost  unconsciously  he  kept  his  eyes  upon  Julie's 
and  he  poured  his  very  soul  into  the  gaze.  It  was 
only  a  little  distance  from  the  door  to  the  automobile 

181 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

which  she  was  to  take,  and  he  had  time.  His  gaze 
became  concentrated,  burning,  a  thing  more  of  the 
spirit  than  of  sight,  and  as  her  eyes  glanced  once 
more  about  the  circle  of  idle  spectators  they  met  his 
own  and  rested  there. 

John  looked  straight  into  their  dark  blue  depths 
and  he  saw  a  startled  flash  leap  up.  Chance  or  a 
power  yet  unknown  had  drawn  her  gaze  and  made 
her  vision  keen.  He  saw  that  she  knew  him,  knew 
him  even  in  that  peasant's  dress  and  under  the  new 
stubble  of  beard.  The  flash  became  for  a  moment  a 
fire,  and  her  figure  quivered,  but  he  was  not  afraid. 
He  had  an  instinctive  confidence  that  she  would  un 
derstand,  and  that  she  would  not  betray  him  by  any 
impulsive  act. 

"I  am  here  to  save  you,"  his  eyes  said. 

"I  know  it,"  hers  replied. 

"I  will  follow  you  across  the  world  to  help  you." 

"I  know  that,  too." 

"Don't  betray  the  fact  that  you've  seen  a  friend." 

"I  will  not." 

Thus  the  eyes  spoke  to  one  another  and  understood 
what  was  said.  Julie's  glance  passed  on,  and  with 
unfaltering  step  she  entered  an  automobile,  the  Ger 
man  chauffeur  standing  by  the  side  of  it  and  respect 
fully  holding  the  door.  Suzanne  followed,  the  chauf 
feur  closed  the  door,  sprang  into  his  seat  and  the 
little  train  moved  majestically  through  the  streets  of 
Metz.  Comment  was  plentiful  and  it  was  not  unkind 
to  Julie. 

"Too  handsome  to  be  executed  as  a  spy,"  said  a 
182 


THE  GREAT  CASTLE 

burly  German  almost  in  John's  ear.  "A  girl  with 
a  face  like  that  should  never  feel  the  touch  of  a  bullet 
or  a  rope.  It's  a  face  to  be  kissed  and  a  neck  to  fit 
into  a  man's  arm." 

The  man's  phrasing  was  rough,  but  both  his  admi 
ration  and  his  pity  were  sincere,  and  John  felt  no  re 
sentment  toward  him. 

"Some  of  the  French  girls  are  wonderful  for  looks," 
said  another  and  younger  German,  "but  they're  the 
most  dangerous  kind.  If  it's  proved  on  the  one  the 
prince  has  caught  she'll  expect  her  blue  eyes  and  all 
that  hair  of  gold  to  pull  her  through." 

Him,  John  hated  and  would  have  been  glad  to  strike, 
but  he  could  help  neither  Julie  nor  himself  by  re 
senting  it.  Instead,  he  watched  the  automobiles,  four 
in  number,  disappear  on  the  road  leading  from  Metz 
toward  Stuttgart,  a  small  body  of  hussars  following 
as  a  guard,  and  then,  pack  on  back,  he  trudged  on 
foot  behind  them. 

The  invaluable  passport  carried  him  through  the 
fortifications,  and  along  the  great  highway  into  the 
country.  He  was  glad  that  Auersperg  had  not  gone 
by  train,  as  it  would  have  been  harder  to  trace  him 
then.  Now,  although  far  behind,  he  could  hear  of 
him  at  inns  and  little  towns  by  the  way.  Yet  he  was 
compelled  to  recall  to  himself  again  and  again  the 
ancient  and  worn  fable  of  the  hare  and  the  tortoise. 

He  knew  well  enough  that  the  tortoise  did  not  often 
overtake  the  hare.  Hares  were  cunning  little  animals, 
not  able  to  fight  and  almost  wholly  dependent  upon 
speed  for  survival  in  the  battle  of  life.  Hence,  they 

183 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

never  went  to  sleep,  and  in  only  a  single  instance  re 
corded  in  history  had  a  tortoise  won  a  footrace  from 
a  hare.  Yet  an  old  proverb,  even  if  based  upon  a 
solitary  exception,  is  wonderfully  consoling,  and  John 
was  able  to  use  it  now  as  comfort. 

After  he  had  passed  the  fortifications  and  was  well 
behind  the  German  interior  lines,  travel  became  easier. 
The  Germans,  considering  their  army  a  wall  before 
them,  were  less  suspicious  and  the  interruptions  were 
ft»v.  John,  moreover,  was  a  cheerful  peasant.  He 
had  a  fair  voice,  and  he  sang  German  hymns  and  war 
songs  in  a  mellow  baritone  as  he  strode  along.  The 
road  was  really  not  so  bad,  after  that  long  and  hideous 
life  in  filthy  trenches.  The  heat  of  Sahara  would 
be  autumn  coolness  after  a  return  from  Hades,  and 
now  John  enjoyed  the  contrast. 

There  were  many  tracks  of  automobiles  in  the  light 
snow  and  hail  that  covered  the  road,  and  one  broader 
than  the  rest  John  felt  sure  was  made  by  the  great 
limousine  of  Auersperg.  It  was  like  a  trail  to  lead  him 
on,  and  he  was  a  trailer  who  could  not  be  shaken  off. 

Rejoicing  in  his  new  possession  of  German — thank 
ful  now  that  he  had  studied  it  so  hard — although  he 
spoke  it  with  a  strong  accent  of  Lorraine,  John 
saluted  such  German  soldiers  as  he  passed  and  wished 
them  good  day.  Invariably  the  salute  was  returned 
in  pleasant  fashion.  His  nature  was  essentially 
friendly  and  therefore  he  bred  friendliness  in  others. 
Although  he  was  in  a  hostile  land  he  was  continually 
meeting  people  who  seemed  to  have  an  instinctive  wish 
to  help  him. 

184 


THE  GREAT  CASTLE 

As  he  walked  on  he  overtook  a  stout  man  of 
middle  age  dressed  heavily  in  brown  who  appeared 
to  be  a  priest,  and  who  turned  upon  him  a  benign 
countenance. 

"Why  do  you  travel  so  fast  for  one  on  foot  ?"  asked 
the  man. 

"Because  I  feel  strong  and  my  errand  takes  me 
far,  Father." 

"If  it  takes  you  far,  my  son,  the  less  speed  in  the 
beginning  the  greater  at  the  end." 

"True,  Father,"  said  John,  slackening  his  pace,  and 
glancing  at  the  shrewd  face  which  was  also  both 
ruddy  and. kindly.  "The  Church  can  give  good  advice 
in  temporal  as  well  as  spiritual  matters." 

"Even  so,  my  son,"  said  the  priest,  who  had  noted 
John's  frank  countenance,  his  width  between  the  eyes. 
"One  of  my  vocation  cannot  go  through  life  merely 
looking  inward.  Come,  walk  with  me.  The  world 
is  mad,  gone  wholly  mad,  but  let  us  try  to  be  two 
sane  beings  in  it  for  a  little  while." 

"Thanks,  Father,"  said  John.  "I  can  wish  no  bet 
ter  company.  I  agree  with  you  that  the  world  has 
gone  mad.  I  have  seen  its  madness  at  its  height." 

"And  at  such  a  time  the  Church,  Protestant  or 
Catholic,  must  do  the  best  it  can.  But  we  are  so  few, 
whil^  so  many  souls  are  leaving  their  bodies.  And 
yet  I  tell  you,  young  sir,  that  not  one  man  in  a  hun 
dred  of  this  great  European  peasantry  knows  why 
he  fights.  I,  a  priest,  may  speak  freely,  and  I  do  so 
because  my  mind  is  full  of  indignation  this  morn- 
ing." 

185 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"I  do  not  love  war,  either.  You  see  I  walk  away 
from  it.  But  why  are  you  on  foot,  Father?" 

"By  preference.  I  might  have  gone  in  one  of  the 
automobiles  with  the  soldiers,  but  they  are  a  part 
of  the  war  madness,  and  I  wished  to  be  alone.  You 
will  learn  with  years  that  it's  well  to  be  alone  at 
times,  when  one  may  take  the  measure  of  himself 
and  those  about  him.  I  have  chosen  to  walk  this 
morning,  because  it  makes  my  blood  run  better,  and 
the  winds  at  least  are  pure." 

"I  find  the  case  the  same  with  me,  sir.  My 
best  thoughts  usually  come  when  I'm  walking  and 
alone." 

The  priest  threw  out  his  hands  in  a  wide  gesture. 

"We  agree,  I  see,"  he  said.  "You  appear  to  be 
a  peasant,  but  your  voice  is  that  of  another  kind. 
No,  do  not  protest  or  say  anything.  It  is  no  business 
of  mine  that  you're  not  the  peasant  you  claim  to  be, 
nor  do  I  ask  the  nature  of  your  errand  behind  the 
German  army." 

"I  could  not  tell  it  to  you,  Father,  but  it  is  an 
errand  of  peace.  I  think  it  the  highest  and  holiest 
I  could  undertake,  and,  in  undertaking  it,  I  believe 
myself  to  be  animated  by  such  a  spirit  as  the  knights 
felt  in  the  first  flush  of  the  Crusades." 

"I  believe  your  words.  When  I  first  looked  into 
your  eyes  I  said  they  were  those  of  an  honest  young 
man.  We  of  the  cloth  learn  to  know.  We  feel  in 
stinctively  the  presence  of  honesty  or  dishonesty. 
Young  sir,  I  hope  that  your  quest,  although  it  may 
take  you  far,  will  take  you  to  success." 

186 


THE  GREAT  CASTLE 

John's  heart  beat  hard.  He  knew  that  the  man 
was  only  a  village  priest,  but  good  wishes  carry. 
They  might  even  travel  upon  waves  of  their  own, 
and  send  to  a  happy  goal  those  for  whom  they  were 
intended. 

"Father,"  he  said,  "you  and  I  have  never  met 
before  this  day,  and  we  may  never  see  each  other 
after  it.  As  I  told  you,  mine  is  a  long  quest  and  it's 
full  of  danger.  Will  you  give  it  your  blessing  without 
asking  what  it  is?" 

"Willingly,"  said  the  priest  as  he  spread  out  his 
hands,  and  murmured  rapid  words  in  Latin.  John, 
Protestant  though  he  was,  felt  a  curious  lightening  of 
the  soul.  The  Crusaders  always  sought  a  blessing 
before  going  into  battle,  and  a  spiritual  fire  that  would 
uphold  him  seemed  to  have  passed  from  the  mind 
of  this  humble  village  priest  to  his. 

They  went  on  now  for  a  little  while  in  silence. 
Uhlans,  hussars,  infantry  and  cannon  passed  them, 
but  few  questions  were  asked  of  them.  The  day  re 
mained  cold,  and  the  heavens  were  a  brilliant  blue. 
It  was  fine  weather  for  walking  and  the  middle-aged 
man  and  the  young  man  kept  pace  with  each  other, 
stride  for  stride. 

By  and  by  they  drank  from  a  brook  and  then  ate 
together.  The  priest  also  carried  a  knapsack  under 
his  heavy  brown  overcoat  and  they  shared  their  food, 
finishing  it  with  a  sip  or  two  from  a  flask  of  light 
wine. 

"We  come  to  a  crossroad  a  mile  further  on,"  said 
the  priest,  "and  there  I  think  we  will  part.  I  turn 

187 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

into  the  crossroad,  and  you,  I  take  it,  keep  the  road 
to  Stuttgart." 

"I  shall  be  sorry." 

"The  way  of  the  world,  my  son.  All  through  life 
we  are  meeting  and  parting.  The  number  of  people 
who  travel  with  us  all  the  road  is  very  small.  It  may 
be  that  I  have  surmised  somewhat  of  your  quest.  No, 
say  nothing!  I  would  not  know  more,  but  a  far 
greater  power  than  mine  will  help  you  in  it." 

They  parted  at  the  crossroad  and  John  felt  as  if 
he  left  an  old  friend.  When  he  looked  back  he  saw 
the  priest  on  a  little  hill  gazing  after  him,  and  he 
felt  again  as  if  the  good  wish  that  would  count  was 
coming  on  a  wave  of  air.  Then  his  own  road  dipped 
into  a  valley  and  at  nightfall  he  came  to  a  village 
which  had  a  little  inn,  humble  but  neat  and  clean. 
Here  he  procured  a  razor  and  shaved  the  stubble 
from  his  face.  He  no  longer  had  a  fear  of  meeting 
anyone  whom  he  might  know,  save  possibly  Weber, 
and  Weber  was  a  friend. 

John's  frank  face  and  cheerful  manner  again  made 
friends  for  him.  The  stout  innkeeper  and  his  stout 
wife  favored  him  with  the  food,  and  hearing  that 
he  had  come  from  Metz  they  wanted  to  know  all  the 
gossip,  which  he  told  them  as  far  as  he  knew.  He 
had  noted  the  broad  track  of  the  great  limousine  in 
the  road  before  he  entered  the  inn,  and  thinking  it 
must  have  stopped  there  for  a  little  while,  he  spoke 
casually  of  those  who  passed. 

"Aye,"  said  the  innkeeper,  "many  go  by,  many  of 
whom  will  never  come  back.  They  go  mostly  toward 

188 


THE  GREAT  CASTLE 

Metz,  but  a  great  prince  traveling  in  the  other  direc 
tion  came  today,  before  noon,  and  we  served  him 
refreshment." 

"Perhaps  it  was  the  Prince  of  Auersperg,"  said 
John.  "He  was  in  Metz  when  I  was  there,  and  I  saw 
him  leave." 

"They  did  not  tell  me  his  name,  but  that  must  have 
been  the  man." 

"He  was  in  a  great,  dark  red  automobile." 

"Then  it  was  surely  he.  One  could  not  mistake 
that  automobile.  I  take  it  that  only  kings  and  princes 
travel  in  its  like." 

"He  carried  with  him  two  Frenchwomen,  danger 
ous  spies,  intended  for  imprisonment  in  Germany." 

"So  I  heard,  and  we  saw  the  face  of  one  of  them, 
very  young  and  with  the  most  marvelous  golden  hair. 
I  never  saw  a  fairer  face.  But,  as  all  the  world 
knows,  the  most  beautiful  women  are  often  the  most 
wicked.  I  suppose  there  wasn't  a  woman  among  the 
Philistines  who  could  compare  with  Delilah  in  either 
face  or  figure." 

"I  suppose  not,"  said  John,  scarcely  able  to  restrain 
a  smile.  Did  the  women  come  into  the  inn?" 

"Oh,  no.  My  wife  took  food  to  them  in  the  auto 
mobile.  She  saw  them  much  better  than  I  did.  She 
says  that  the  younger  one — and  she  was  but  a  girl- 
spoke  softly  and  did  not  look  wicked  at  all.  But  then, 
my  wife  is  fat  and  sentimental." 

The  stout  hausfrau  smiled. 

"It  is  Hans  who  has  the  heart  full  of  sentiment," 
she  said.  "When  he  saw  that  the  French  spy  was  a 

189 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

girl  of  such  beauty  and  such  youth  he  believed  that 
she  should  not  be  punished,  and  he  a  good  German! 
Ah,  all  men  are  alike!" 

Hans  filled  his  pipe  and  wisely  made  no  reply.  But 
John  smiled  also. 

"Is  it  wicked  in  a  man  to  have  an  eye  for  beauty?" 
he  said.  "I  know  that  my  host's  heart  has  thrilled 
many  a  time  when  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  lady 
who  is  now  his  wife  and  the  very  competent  head 
of  his  household." 

It  was  obvious,  but  both  smiled. 

"Hans  is  not  so  bad,"  said  the  hausfrau  compla 
cently,  and  John's  compliment  won  him  an  unusually 
good  room  that  night.  Hans  told  him  also  that  he 
could  probably  secure  him  a  place  in  an  empty  supply 
wagon  the  next  morning,  and  John  was  grateful. 
Walking  was  good,  and  it  had  done  much  to  maintain 
his  strength  and  steady  his  nerves,  but  one  could  not 
walk  all  the  way  across  Germany. 

He  was  aware  that  he  was  surrounded  by  dangers 
but  he  felt  that 'the  omens  remained  fair.  Perhaps 
the  good  wishes  that  had  been  given  to  him  still 
clothed  him  about  and  protected  him  from  harm.  In 
abnormal  times  the  human  mind  seeks  more  than 
an  ordinary  faith. 

He  would  have  slept  well,  but  in  the  night  an 
army  passed.  For  hours  and  hours  the  gray  legions 
trod  by  in  numbers  past  counting,  the  moonlight  cast 
ing  gleams  upon  the  spiked  helmets.  Then  came 
masses  of  Uhlans  and  hussars  and  after  them  batteries 
of  great  guns  and  scores  and  scores  of  the  wicked 

190 


THE  GREAT  CASTLE 

machine  guns.  Truly,  as  the  priest  had  said,  the  whole 
world  had  gone  mad.  He  remembered  those  days  in 
Vienna  when  the  gay  and  light-headed  Viennese  had 
marched  up  and  down  the  streets  all  night  long,  sing 
ing  and  dancing,  and  thinking  only  of  war  as  a  fes 
tival,  in  which  glorious  victory  was  sure  and  quick. 
Torrents  of  blood  had  flowed  under  the  bridges  since 
then,  gay  Austria,  that  had  set  the  torch,  had  been 
shaken  to  its  foundation,  and  no  victory  was  yet  in 
sight  for  anybody. 

Nevertheless  the  German  legions  seemed  inexhaust 
ible.  John  had  seen  them  turned  back  in  those  long 
days  of  fighting  on  the  Marne,  and  more  than  a  mil 
lion  had  been  killed  or  wounded  since  the  war  began, 
but  that  avalanche  of  men  and  guns  still  poured  out 
of  the  heart  of  Germany.  He  felt  more  deeply  than 
ever  that  the  world  could  not  afford  a  German  vic 
tory,  and  the  sanguinary  spectacle  of  a  Kaiser  riding 
roughshod  over  civilization.  The  fact  that  so  many 
German  people  were  likable  and  that  Germany  had 
achieved  so  much  made  the  case  all  the  worse. 

He  took  the  road  the  next  morning,  not  on  foot 
this  time  but  in  an  empty  provision  wagon,  returning 
eastward,  drawn  by  two  powerful  horses  and  driven 
by  Fritz,  a  stout  German  youth.  Both  Hans  and  the 
hausfrau  wished  him  well,  and  he  soon  made  a  friend 
of  Fritz,  who  was  a  Bavarian  from  a  little  village 
near  Munich.  John  knew  Munich  better  than  any  other 
German  city,  and  he  and  the  young  German  soon  estab 
lished  a  common  ground  of  conversation,  because  to 
Fritz  Munich  was  the  greatest  and  finest  of  all  cities. 

191 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

That  was  one  of  the  pleasantest  mornings  he  ex 
perienced  on  his  long  and  solitary  quest.  His  heavy 
clothing  kept  him  warm,  his  seat  was  comfortable, 
the  pace  was  good  and  Fritz  was  excellent  company. 
Fritz  was  a  simple  peasant,  though,  in  his  belief  that 
Germany  was  right  in  everything  and  omnipotent, 
that  the  other  nations  through  jealousy  had  conspired 
to  destroy  her,  but  she,  instead,  would  destroy  them 
all,  and  rule  a  conquered  world. 

John  saw  readily  that  the  poison  had  been  instilled 
into  him  from  his  birth  by  the  men  higher  up,  and 
he  blamed  Fritz  very  little  for  his  misguided  beliefs. 
Besides,  it  was  pleasant  to  have  the  company  of  one 
somewhat  near  his  own  age,  and  to  listen  to  human 
talk.  There  was  a  girl,  Minna,  in  the  village  near 
Munich  whom  Fritz  was  going  to  marry  as  soon  as 
the  war  was  over. 

"And  that  won't  be  long  now,"  said  Fritz.  "It's 
true  that  we  were  halted  before  Paris  last  year,  but 
we  came  again  more  numerous  and  more  powerful 
than  ever.  The  Kaiser  will  make  a  finish  of  it  all 
in  the  spring,  and  I  shall  marry  Minna.  We  shall 
go  into  Munich,  see  the  beautiful  city,  and  then  go 
back  to  our  home  in  the  village." 

"A  fine  place,  Munich,"  said  John.  "In  my  deal 
ing  in  horses  I've  been  there  more  than  once.  Do  you 
remember  the  Wittelsbach  Fountain  in  the  Maxi- 
milienplatz  ?" 

"Aye,  and  a  cooling  sight  it  is  on  a  warm  day." 

"And  the  green  Isar  flowing  through  the  Englischer 
Gardens!" 

192 


THE  GREAT  CASTLE 

"And  the  ducks  swimming  down  to  the  edge  of  the 
little  falls,  swimming  so  close  that  you  think  they're 
going  over  and  then  swimming  away  again." 

"Yes,  I've  seen  them,  and  once  I  went  into  the 
gallery  and  saw  the  strange  pictures  they  called  Futu 
rist,  which  I  think  represent  the  bad  dreams  of  painters 
who  have  gone  to  bed  drunk." 

"You're  a  man  of  sense,  you  Castel,  even  if  you 
do  have  a  French  name.  I  went  in  there  myself 
once,  and  then  I  hurried  away  to  the  Hofbrau  and 
drank  all  the  beer  I  could  that  I  might  forget  it." 

John  laughed,  and  Fritz  laughed  with  him. 

"How  far  do  you  go?"  asked  John. 

"Only  to  Stuttgart.  I  wish  it  was  Munich.  Then 
I  might  fee  Minna  again  before  returning  to  the  war." 

But  they  had  a  placid  journey  to  Stuttgart,  sleeping 
by  the  way  in  the  wagon.  Arriving  in  the  city  John 
paid  Fritz  for  his  ride  and  parted  from  him  with  re 
gret.  He  spent  a  night  here  in  a  humble  inn,  and 
discovered  that  Auersperg  and  his  party  were  now 
two  days  ahead  of  him.  The  automobiles  were  mov 
ing  with  speed,  and  John  surmised  that  the  prince 
did  not  intend  to  remain  long  at  his  castle  over  the 
Austrian  border.  Perhaps  he  would  have  to  return 
to  the  war,  leaving  Julie  and  Suzanne  there.  He  hoped 
so. 

Two  days  later  John  was  in  Munich,  and  he  learned 
that  Auersperg  had  not  increased  his  lead.  It  was 
easy  enough  to  trace  him.  He  had  secured  an  ex 
tensive  suite  of  apartments  at  the  large  hotel,  the 
Bayerischer  Hof,  although  Julie  and  the  Picards  had 

193 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

been  secluded  in  another  part  of  the  hotel.  Auers- 
perg  had  gone  to  the  palace  and  had  held  a  long 
conference  with  the  old  King  of  Bavaria,  but  on  the 
second  day  he  had  left,  still  going  eastward,  escorted 
by  hussars. 

John  departed  again  and  on  foot.  The  weather 
was  balmier  now,  with  touches  of  spring  in  it.  Faint 
shades  of  green  appeared  in  the  grass  and  the  foliage, 
and  his  pursuit  was  sanguine.  Fortune  had  certainly 
favored  him  in  a  remarkable  manner,  so  far.  He 
had  been  able  to  answer  all  questions  in  a  convincing 
way,  and  here  in  Bavaria  the  people  were  not  so  sus 
picious,  and  perhaps  not  so  stern  as  they  were  in 
Prussia.  Nor  did  he  doubt  for  a  moment  that  Julie 
knew  he  was  following  them.  She  had  recognized 
him  and  their  eyes  had  spoken  in  the  language  of 
understanding  to  each  other.  It  was  easy  enough 
to  re-create  for  himself,  almost  as  vivid  as  reality,  her 
beautiful  face  with  the  golden  hair  showing  under 
the  edges  of  the  hood,  and  the  startled  look  of  the 
dark  blue  eyes  when  they  first  met  his  own.  Relief 
and  joy  had  been  in  that  look  too.  He  could  read  it. 

John  had  learned  in  Munich  the  location  of  Auers- 
perg's  principal  castle.  It  was  Zillenstein  in  a  spur 
of  the  Eastern  Alps  just  inside  Austria,  where  for 
centuries  the  Auerspergs  had  held  great  state,  as 
princes  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire.  Now  when  they 
were  princes  of  both  the  German  and  the  Austro- 
Hungarian  empires  with  their  greater  fealty  for  the 
former,  they  often  went  there  nevertheless,  and  John's 
information  in  Munich  made  him  quite  sure  that  the 

194 


THE  GREAT  CASTLE 

prince  had  gone  directly  toward  the  ancient  strong 
hold. 

Auersperg  could  cover  the  distance  quickly  in  his 
powerful  automobiles,  but  it  would  take  John  a  long 
time  on  foot,  helped  by  an  occasional  ride  in  a  peas 
ant's  cart.  Nevertheless  he  hung  on  with  patience 
and  pertinacity.  He  was  but  a  single  man  on  a  quest 
in  the  heart  of  Germany,  but  in  the  old  days  men 
had  gone  alone  through  a  world  of  dangers  to  the 
Holy  Sepulchre  and  had  returned.  He  was  not  far 
from  the  path  taken  by  those  from  Western  Europe, 
and  he  was  uplifted  by  the  knowledge.  The  feeling 
that  he,  too,  was  a  crusader  grew  strongly  upon  him, 
and  by  night  and  day  was  his  support. 

He  crossed  the  border  at  last  and  came  to  Salzburg 
in  the  mountains,  where  the  gray-green  Salzach  flows 
down  from  the  glaciers  and  divides  the  town.  The 
place  was  thronged  with  soldiers,  and  the  summit  of 
the  frowning  Muenchburg  was  alive  with  activity. 
Here  in  the  very  heart  of  the  Teutonic  confederation, 
far  from  hostile  frontiers,  travelers  were  not  subjected 
to  such  rigid  scrutiny.  It  was  deemed  that  everything 
was  safely  German,  and  John  could  travel  at  ease 
almost  like  an  inhabitant  of  the  land. 

Salzburg  looked  familiar  to  him.  There  had  been 
much  to  photograph  it  upon  his  mind.  He  remem 
bered  the  uneasy  night  he  and  his  uncle  had  passed 
there  before  his  flight  with  Lannes,  which  had  taken 
him  into  such  a  train  of  vast  events.  It  had  been 
only  seven  or  eight  months  before  but  it  seemed  many 
times  as  long.  He  had  felt  himself  a  boy  in  Vienna, 

195 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

he  felt  himself  a  man  now.  He  had  been  through 
great  battles,  he  had  seen  the  world  in  convulsion, 
his  life  a  dozen  times  had  hung  on  a  hair,  and  since 
it  is  experience  that  makes  a  man  he  was  older  than 
most  of  those  twice  his  age. 

He  was  stopping  after  his  custom  at  an  obscure 
inn,  and  in  the  moonlight  he  strolled  through  the  little 
city.  In  its  place  among  the  mountains  on  both  sides 
of  the  gray-green  river  it  was  full  of  romance  to 
him,  romance  colored  all  the  more  deeply  by  memory. 
Off  there  among  those  peaks  the  Arrow  had  first  come 
for  him  and  Lannes,  while  here  the  great  Mozart  had 
been  born  and  lay  buried.  In  remoter  days  Huns  had 
swept  through  these  passes,  coming  from  Asian  deserts 
to  the  pillage  of  Europe. 

John  sat  down  on  a  bench  in  the  little  square  before 
the  cathedral  and  looked  up  at  the  mountains.  He 
knew  the  exact  location  in  which  lay  Zillenstein,  the 
ancient  seat  of  the  Auersperg  race,  and  he  calculated 
that  in  two  days  he  could  reach  it  on  foot,  the  lone 
youth  in  peasant's  garb,  pursuing  the  powerful  prince 
and  general,  surrounded  by  retainers  and  hussars  and 
in  the  land  of  his  ancestors. 

John  wondered  what  had  become  of  his  comrades. 
Was  Lannes  well,  and  had  he  got  his  message  ?  Were 
Carstairs  and  Wharton  still  alive,  and  where  was 
Weber?  They  were  questions  the  solution  of  which 
must  wait  upon  the  success  of  his  quest,  and  therefore 
the  answer  might  never  come.  But  he  fiercely  put 
away  such  a  thought.  He  would  succeed!  He  must 
succeed ! 

196 


THE  GREAT  CASTLE 

He  was  not  walking  in  the  dark.  He  had  learned 
that  Auersperg  and  his  people  had  arrived  at  Salz 
burg  two  days  before,  and  had  left  after  a  few  hours 
for  Zillenstein.  The  prince  was  in  excellent  health 
and  would  not  remain  at  his  castle  more  than  a  week. 
Then  he  would  return  to  the  western  front,  where 
he  was  one  of  the  great  generals  around  the  Kaiser. 
He  had  brought  with  him  two  Frenchwomen,  spies, 
who  would  be  imprisoned  in  the  dungeons  of  Zillen 
stein  until  the  war  was  over,  if,  indeed,  they  were 
not  shot  before.  One,  it  was  said,  was  very  young, 
and  beautiful,  but  she  was  the  more  dangerous  of  the 
two. 

Poor  Julie!  there  was  a  conspiracy  of  fate  against 
her,  but  John  shook  himself  and  felt  his  courage  rising 
anew,  powerful,  indomitable,  invincible.  He  had  come 
so  far  alone,  and  he  would  rescue  her  with  his  single 
hand!  He  went  back  to  the  inn  and  sat  for  a  while 
among  peasants  and  listened  to  their  talk.  They  knew 
little  of  what  was  pasing  beyond  the  Teutonic  em 
pires.  As  usual  in  Germany  and  Austria,  they  accepted 
what  the  men  higher  up  told  them.  They  were  always 
winning  victories  everywhere,  and  it  would  be  but 
a  short  time  before  the  treacherous  English,  the  wicked 
French  and  the  ignorant  Russians  were  crushed. 

John  yawned  after  a  while  and  went  to  his  room. 
He  intended  to  be  fresh  and  strong  the  next  morning 
when  he  started  on  the  last  stage  of  his  search,  and 
when  the  dawn  came  he  was  glad  to  see  that  it  was 
clear  and  bright.  By  noon  he  was  deep  among  the 
hills,  and  so  far  had  answered  all  questions  without 

197 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

arousing  any  suspicion.  But  he  knew  that  trouble 
about  his  identity  was  bound  to  come  in  time.  He 
could  not  go  on  forever,  playing  the  role  of  Jean 
Castel,  a  horse-buyer  from  Lorraine.  Lorraine  was 
far  away  now,  and  he  was  beyond  his  natural  range. 

And  yet  his  frank  young  face  and  smiling  eyes  were 
continually  making  him  friends  where  he  expected 
none.  Explanations  that  might  have  seemed  doubtful 
coming  from  others  were  convincing  when  he  spoke 
them,  and  here  in  this  hostile  land,  where  he  would 
have  been  executed  as  a  spy,  his  identity  known,  he 
was  instead  helped  on  his  way. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  when  he  was  high  up  on  the 
shoulder  of  a  mountain  he  came  to  one  of  the  little 
wayside  shrines  that  one  sees  in  the  Catholic  countries 
of  the  Old  World.  A  small  stream  of  clear,  green 
water  ran  almost  at  the  feet  of  the  image,  and  he 
knelt  and  drank.  Then  he  sat  down  to  eat  a  little 
bread  and  sausage  from  his  knapsack,  and,  while  he 
was  there,  a  middle-aged  woman  with  two  young  boys 
also  came  to  the  shrine,  before  which  they  knelt  and 
prayed.  When  they  rose  John  politely  offered  them 
a  portion  of  his  bread  and  sausage,  but  they  declined 
it,  thanking  him,  and  bringing  forth  food  of  their 
own,  ate  it. 

John  saw  that  the  woman's  face  was  very  sorrow 
ful,  and  the  boys  were  grave  and  thoughtful  beyond 
their  years.  He  knew  that  they  were  under  the  shadow 
of  the  war,  and  his  sympathy  drew  him  to  them. 

"You  have  other  sons,  perhaps,"  he  said  gently, 
"and  they  are  with  the  armies?" 

198 


THE  GREAT  CASTLE 

"Alas,  yes,"  she  replied.  "I  have  two  others.  One 
went  to  the  east  to  fight  the  Russians  and  the  other 
was  sent  to  the  west  to  meet  the  French.  I  have 
not  heard  from  either  in  three  months.  I  do  not 
know  whether  they  are  alive  or  dead.  We  go  into 
Salzburg  tomorrow  to  get  news  of  them,  if  we  can." 

"I  hope  they  may  come  back  to  you,"  said  John 
simply. 

"And  you?    You  are  not  of  Austria." 

"No,  I  came  from  a  land  that  was  French  before 
I  was  born  but  which  is  now  German,  and  under  the 
beneficent  rule  of  the  great  Kaiser — Lorraine." 

"You  have  indeed  made  a  great  journey." 

"But  it's  to  help  one  who  needs  help.  I'd  go  if  it 
took  me  to  the  other  side  of  the  world.  The  errand 
is  sacred." 

"Then  I  wish  you  Godspeed  upon  it.  You  are  young, 
and  you  have  a  good  face.  What  you  say  must  be 
true.  I  shall  pray  for  you  and  the  happy  end  of  your 
search." 

She  uttered  words  rapidly  under  her  breath.  She 
was  a  middle-aged  and  uneducated  Austrian  woman, 
but  as  she  prayed  and  the  shadows  deepened  on  the 
mountains  he  received  an  extraordinary  impression. 
A  priest  had  prayed,  too,  for  his  success,  and  the 
second  prayer  could  not  be  a  mere  coincidence.  It 
was  one  of  a  chain.  His  will  to  succeed  was  so  power 
ful,  and  so  many  others  were  helping  him  with  the 
same  wish  that  he  could  not  fail. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE    FAIR   CAPTIVE 

THE  woman  gathered  up  the  remains  of  the  food, 
crossed  herself  again  before  the  shrine,  and 
she  and  her  sons  prepared  to  resume  the 
descent  of  the  mountain. 

"I  thank  you  for  your  good  wishes,"  said  John. 
"They  may  go  far." 

"And  so  may  yours,"  she  said.     "Farewell!" 

"Farewell!" 

He  watched  them,  walking  down  the  slope,  until  a 
turn  in  the  road  hid  them,  and  then  he  resumed  his 
own  ascent,  slow  now,  because  he  had  been  climbing 
all  day,  and  he  wished  to  conserve  his  strength.  The 
night  was  coming  fast,  and,  if  it  had  not  been  for 
the  smooth-paved  road  over  which  he  was  walking, 
he  might  have  fancied  himself  in  a  primeval  wilder 
ness.  The  sun  was  sinking  in  a  sea  of  red  light  and 
peaks  and  ridges  were  outlined  against  it,  clear  and 
sharp.  Old  and  thickly  inhabited  Europe  melted  away, 
and  the  young  crusader  stood  alone  and  solitary  among 
the  mountains. 

The  road  led  around  a  cliff,  and  far  across  a  valley 
on  the  other  side  he  saw  Zillenstein,  that  nest  from 
which  the  Auerspergs  had  first  ruled  and  raided. 

200 


THE  FAIR  CAPTIVE 

The  red  light  of  the  setting  sun  fell  upon  it,  magni 
fying  every  battlement  and  tower,  and  making  them 
all  glow  with  color.  Vast  as  it  was,  it  seemed  even 
vaster  in  the  red  light  and  in  the  fire  of  John's  own 
imagination. 

His  mind  was  filled  with  history  and  old  romance, 
and  it  made  him  think  of  Valhalla.  Here  certainly 
was  the  dusk  of  the  gods.  Auersperg  was  one  of  the 
last  representatives  of  the  old  order  that  troubled 
Europe  so  much  in  its  going,  for  to  John,  a  keen 
and  intense  lover  of  freedom  and  of  the  career  open 
to  all  the  talents,  the  present  war  was  in  its  main 
feature  a  death  struggle  between  autocracy  and  de 
mocracy. 

He  stared  at  the  gigantic  ramparts  of  Zillenstein, 
as  long  as  the  sun  endured.  He  would  have  given 
much  then  to  have  had  a  powerful  pair  of  glasses, 
but  no  horse-buying  peasant  could  carry  such  equip 
ment  without  arousing  suspicion. 

The  day  sank  into  the  night  and  the  last  tower  of 
Zillenstein  was  hid  by  the  dusk.  Just  before  going, 
and,  when  all  the  red  light  had  faded,  the  castle  showed 
huge,  black  and  sinister.  But  John's  soul  was  not 
cast  down  by  it.  Uncommon  situations  bred  uncom 
mon  feelings  and  impulses.  His  imaginative  mind 
still  retained  the  impression  that  all  the  signs  and 
omens  were  in  his  favor,  and  that  the  prayers  of  the 
righteous  availed. 

He  came  out  of  his  dreams,  and  began  to  think  of 
his  night's  lodging.  The  air  was  turning  cold  on 
the  mountain  and  an  unpleasant  wind  was  trying  to 

201 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

strike  through  his  clothing,  but  he  still  carried  his 
pair  of  blankets,  and  he  had  become  hardened  to  all 
kinds  of  weather.  He  had  a  good  supply,  too,  of  the 
inevitable  bread  and  sausage,  and  there  was  water 
for  the  taking. 

He  turned  from  the  road  and  walked  through  a 
wood  higher  up  the  side  of  the  mountain,  having  caught 
a  gleam  of  white  through  the  trees  and  being  anxious 
to  ascertain  its  nature.  He  found  the  remains  of  a 
small  and  ancient  marble  temple — temple  he  took  it 
to  be — and  he  was  sure  that  it  had  been  erected  there 
perhaps  fifteen  centuries  ago  by  the  Romans.  He 
knew  from  his  reading  that  they  had  marched  and 
fought  and  settled  throughout  all  this  region  and  in 
almost  all  of  Austria.  Marcus  Aurelius  might  have 
been  here,  he  might  even  have  built  the  temple  itself, 
and  other  Roman  emperors  might  have  stood  in  the 
shadow  of  its  shattered  columns. 

It  was  a  round  temple,  like  those  to  Ceres  that  he  had 
seen  in  Italy,  and  while  some  of  the  columns  had  fallen 
others  stood,  and  a  portion  of  the  roof  was  there. 
He  saw  for  himself  a  place  under  this  fragment  of 
a  roof  and  against  a  pillar. 

But  he  devoted  his  attention  first  to  supper.  A 
small  cold  stream  flowed  from  under  a  rock  fifty  feet 
away,  and  drinking  from  it  now  and  then  he  ate  his 
bread  and  sausage  in  comfort,  and  even  with  a  sense 
of  luxury.  He  was  a  crusader  and  he  was  upborne 
more  strongly  than  ever  by  his  faith.  Alone  on  the 
mountain  in  the  darkness  everything  else  had  melted 
away.  America  was  an  immeasurable  distance  from 

202 


THE  FAIR  CAPTIVE 

him  and  the  figures  of  his  uncle,  Mr.  Anson  and  his 
young  friends  of  the  army  became  thin  shadows. 

The  moon,  full  and  dominant,  came  out  after  a  while 
and  silvered  the  skies.  Stars  in  myriads  trooped  forth 
and  danced.  John  felt  that  they  were  friendly,  that 
they  were  watching  over  him,  and  once  more  he  saw 
happy  omens.  Despite  his  long  walk  he  was  not  tired 
and  he  enjoyed  the  deep  peace  on  the  mountains.  He 
might  have  been  awed  at  another  time,  but  now  he 
was  not  afraid. 

Zillenstein,  too,  came  out,  bathed  in  silver,  an  im 
mense  threatening  mass  set  solidly  in  the  shoulder 
of  the  opposite  mountain,  more  sinister  even  in  the 
moonlight  than  in  the  sunlight.  He  wondered  how 
many  hundreds  of  innocent  human  beings  had  per 
ished  in  its  dungeons.  He  had  not  the  slightest  doubt 
that  Julie  was  there,  but  she  at  least  was  safe  from 
everything,  save  a  long  imprisonment  and  a  powerful 
pressure  that  might  compel  her  to  become  the  mor 
ganatic  wife  of  Auersperg.  It  might  be  the  old  story 
of  the  drop  of  water  wearing  away  the  stone. 

Clouds  began  to  trail  slowly  up  the  valley,  and 
Zillenstein  faded  away  again.  The  long  columns 
of  mist  and  vapor  seemed  so  near  that  John  felt  as 
if  he  could  reach  out  his  hand  and  touch  them. 

His  day's  exertions  began  to  tell  now,  and  the 
chill  of  the  night  deepened.  He  sought  his  chosen 
shelter  within  the  old  temple,  and  lying  down  on  the 
stone  floor  wrapped  in  his  blankets,  sank  fast  into 
sleep.  Morning  dawned,  sharp  and  clear,  and  the 
red  sun  came  out  of  Asia,  turning  the  huge  pile 

203 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

of  Zillenstein  once  more  into  a  scarlet  glow,  a  vast 
blood-red  splotch  in  the  side  of  the  mountain. 

He  drank  at  the  little  stream,  then  bathed  his  face, 
ate  breakfast,  and,  knapsack  on  back,  returned  to  the 
road  that  led  down  the  far  side  of  the  mountain. 
His  courage  was  still  high.  The  crusader  of  the  day 
before  was  none  the  less  the  crusader  this  morning, 
and  he  whistled  soft  and  happy  airs  as  he  descended. 
He  knew  that  it  was  a  trick  that  he  had  caught  from 
General  Vaugirard  and  he  wondered  where  that  fat 
old  hero  might  be  now. 

But  as  he  walked  along  he  formed  his  plan.  Every 
general  who  intends  to  attack  an  enemy  must  choose 
a  method  of  approach,  and  the  crusader's  plan  to  assail 
Zillenstein  was  now  quite  clear  in  his  mind.  His 
decision  brought  him  the  usual  relief,  following  the 
solution  of  a  doubt,  and  he  intended  that  his  journey 
that  day  through  the  great  valley  should  resemble 
somewhat  a  stroll  of  pleasure. 

He  whistled  at  times  and  at  times  he  sang.  He 
remembered  the  story  of  the  faithful  troubadour, 
Blondel,  who  sought  his  master,  Richard  of  the  Lion 
Heart,  imprisoned  somewhere  in  a  castle  in  Austria, 
and  who,  finding  him,  sang  under  his  window  to  let 
him  know  one  loyal  friend  was  there.  But  Richard, 
under  the  light  of  history,  had  become  merely  a  bar 
barous  king,  cruel  to  his  enemies  and  unjust  to  his 
friends.  John  felt  that  his  own  quest  was  higher  and 
better. 

Toward  noon  he  was  in  the  middle  of  a  valley 
down  which  a  swift  little  river  flowed.  Old  men, 

204 


THE  FAIR  CAPTIVE 

women  and  children  were  at  work  in  the  fields  pre 
paring  for  the  new  crop,  and  again  John's  frank  eyes 
and  hearty  voice  won  him  a  welcome.  He  was  a  man 
of  Lorraine  who  had  been  on  the  far  western  front 
and  they  welcomed  Ulysses  on  his  travels.  They  said 
that  he  was  going  to  Zillenstein  at  a  fortunate  time, 
as  the  prince  had  just  returned  for  a  space  and  the 
great  castle  was  full  of  people.  When  so  much  of 
the  youth  of  the  land  was  gone  away  a  handy  man 
with  horses  might  obtain  work  there.  The  prince 
used  automobiles  chiefly,  but  many  horses  were  em 
ployed  also. 

Once  John  was  compelled  to  show  the  German  pass 
port.  It  was  of  no  use  in  Austria,  except  as  a  proof 
of  identity,  and  good  faith,  and  as  such  it  served  him 
well. 

In  the  afternoon  he  began  to  ascend  the  slope  that 
confined  the  southern  side  of  the  valley,  and  toward 
night  he  drew  near  to  Zillenstein.  The  view  of  the 
castle  here  was  less  clear  than  from  the  other  side 
of  the  valley.  Patches  of  pine  on  the  slopes  beneath 
hid  many  of  the  towers  and  battlements,  but  he  saw 
lights  shining  from  lofty  windows,  and  about  the 
castle  were  many  small  houses.  He  surmised  that 
Zillenstein  and  its  surroundings  had  not  changed  much 
since  the  Middle  Ages.  Here  was  the  castle,  and  below 
it  were  the  cottages  and  huts  of  the  peasants  and  re 
tainers  who  might  be  as  loyal  as  ever  to  the  prince 
whose  lineage  was  more  ancient  than  that  of  either 
Hohenzollern  or  Hapsburg. 

Two  young  hussars  riding  down  the  road,  their 
205 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

horses'  hoofs  ringing  on  the  stones,  brought  back  the 
modern  world.  They  were  gay  young  fellows,  smok 
ing  cigarettes,  their  Austrian  caps  tipped  back  to  let 
the  cool  breeze  blow  upon  their  foreheads,  and  they 
called  cheerfully  to  the  strong  young  peasant  who 
walked  slowly  up  the  road.  John  lifted  his  cap  and 
answered  in  a  tone  that  was  respectful  but  not  servile. 

"You  look  like  one  who  has  traveled  far,"  said 
the  younger  of  the  two,  a  mere  boy. 

"From  Lorraine,"  answered  John.  "My  name  is 
Jean  Castel,  which  is  French,  but  I,  its  owner,  am 
not.  My  family  became  German  before  I  was  born, 
and  has  been  so  ever  since." 

"Ah,  I  see,  made  German  by  strength  of  arms." 

"And  growing  more  German  every  day  by  will  and 
liking." 

"You  speak  well  for  a  peasant." 

"I  was  a  dealer  in  horses,  which  took  me  much 
over  the  land  and  everyone  who  travels  learns.  See, 
here  is  my  passport." 

"Why  should  I  look  at  your  passport?" 

"Everyone  else  does.     Then  why  not  you?" 

"No,  I  don't  want  to  see  it.  I  take  your  word  for 
it.  You  couldn't  have  come  so  deep  into  Germany, 
unless  you  were  one  of  us.  What  do  you  seek  at 
the  castle?" 

"My  trade  is  gone  and  I  want  work  with  the  horses. 
There  must  surely  be  a  place  on  the  estate  of  so  great 
a  prince." 

"There  is,  but  he  wants  good  men,  the  very  best." 

"Let  him  try  me." 

206 


THE  FAIR  CAPTIVE 

"I'll  try  you  now." 

The  hussar  leaped  from  his  horse  and  asked  John 
to  get  into  the  saddle.  John  had  noticed  that  it  was 
a  big  brute  with  a  red  eye,  and  every  other  indication 
of  a  wicked  temper,  but  in  his  earlier  youth  he  had 
spent  a  year  on  a  great  ranch  belonging  to  his  uncle  in 
Montana,  and  the  cowboys  had  taught  him  everything. 
He  was  quite  aware  that  a  dramatic  effect  would  be 
useful  to  him  now,  and  he  decided  to  temporize  a 
little  in  order  that  the  culmination  might  be  greater. 

"It  has  been  my  business,"  he  said,  "to  try  and  sell 
horses,  not  to  ride  them." 

Both  officers  laughed  derisively. 

"Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg  likes  bold  men  around 
him,"  said  the  one  who  had  dismounted,  "and  he 
would  not  care  for  a  hostler  who  was  afraid  of  his 
own  horses.'" 

John,  despite  the  fact  that  he  had  invited  it,  was 
stung  somewhat  by  the  taunt. 

"While  I  said  it  was  not  my  business  to  ride  horses 
I  didn't  say  I  couldn't  ride  them,"  he  replied. 

"Then  up  with  you  and  prove  it." 

John  seized  the  bridle,  and  as  the  great  black  horse, 
feeling  the  touch  of  an  unfamiliar  hand,  pulled  away 
from  him,  he  made  one  leap  and  was  in  the  saddle. 
He  felt  in  an  instant  from  the  fierce  quiver  running 
through  the  mighty  frame  that  he  had  a  demon  be 
neath  him.  The  Austrians,  who  doubtless  had  not 
expected  him  to  accept  the  challenge,  were  alarmed 
and  the  younger,  whose  name  John  afterward  learned 
to  be  Pappenheim,  shouted : 

207 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"Jump  off!     He'll  kill  you!" 

John  had  no  notion  of  leaving  the  saddle,  either 
willingly  or  unwillingly.  He  believed  that  after  his 
training  by  the  cowboys  he  could  ride  anything,  and 
when  he  felt  the  great  frame  draw  itself  together  he 
was  ready.  He  saw  too  that  he  could  make  capital. 
He  would  impress  these  volatile  Austrians  and  at 
the  same  time  he  would  recommend  himself  as  an 
expert  horsemen  to  Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg. 

The  black  horse  made  a  series  of  mighty  jumps, 
any  one  of  which  would  have  sent  a  novice  flying, 
but  the  trained  rider  on, his  back  knew  instinctively 
which  way  he  was  going  to  leap,  and  swayed  easily 
every  time.  Then  panting,  and  mad  with  anger  and 
fury,  the  horse  rushed  down  the  road.  John  pulled 
hard  on  the  bridle  to  keep  him  from  stumbling.  He 
heard  the  two  Austrians  behind  him  shouting,  and 
the  one  on  horseback  pursuing,  but  he  did  not  look 
back. 

When  the  horse  had  gone  three  or  four  hundred 
yards  he  pulled  harder  on  the  bit,  and  gradually  turned 
him  about  in  the  road.  Then  he  raced  him  back  up 
the  hill,  a  most  exhausting  proceeding  for  any  animal 
however  strong.  Then  the  horse  began  to  jump  and 
kick  again,  but  he  could  not  shake  off  his  incubus. 
A  side  glance  by  John  showed  that  young  Pappen- 
heim  was  standing  among  the  trees  by  the  roadside 
well  out  of  the  way  and  that  the  mounted  officer  had 
also  drawn  back  among  the  trees. 

He  felt  that  now  was  the  time  for  his  stroke.  He 
knew  that  the  horse  was  conquered,  overcome  chiefly 

208 


THE  FAIR  CAPTIVE 

by  his  own  struggles,  and  letting  him  breathe  a  little 
he  urged  him  straight  forward  in  the  road  toward  the 
castle,  which  was  only  a  few  hundred  yards  away. 

As  he  emerged  from  the  woods  he  saw  that  the 
road  led  through  the  remains  of  an  ancient  wall, 
and  across  a  bridge  over  a  moat  which  was  partly 
filled  up.  In  the  cleared  space  in  front  of  the  wall 
several  soldiers  were  standing  and  near  them  were 
two  hussars.  The  hussars  rode  forward,  as  if  they 
would  prevent  the  flight  of  the  horse,  but  John  urged 
on  his  waning  spirit  and  he  dashed  over  the  moat 
and  through  the  wall  into  the  inner  precincts  of  the 
castle  yard,  where  the  animal  stopped  dead  beat  and 
covered  with  foam. 

He  slipped  from  the  horse,  as  a  man,  who  had  been 
sitting  in  a  camp  chair  in  the  shadow  of  a  great  pine, 
rose  in  surprise,  and  stood  looking  at  him.  It  was 
Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg  himself,  in  a  uniform  of 
gray  and  silver,  his  great  brown  beard  forked  and 
spreading  out  magnificently.  John  took  off  his  cap, 
saluted  and  despite  the  fierce  beating  of  his  heart  stood 
calmly  before  him. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  demanded  the  prince. 

John  was  saved  a  reply  by  young  Pappenheim,  who 
came  up  running. 

"It  was  my  fault,  Your  Highness,"  he  said.  "We 
met  him  in  the  road  coming  to  the  castle,  where  he 
said  he  wished  to  be  employed  as  a  hostler.  I  told 
him  to  prove  his  skill  by  riding  my  horse,  which 
hitherto  has  tolerated  no  one  but  myself  on  his  back. 
He  rode  him  like  a  Cossack,  and  here  he  is!  The 

209 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

fault,  sir,  was  mine,  and  I  crave  the  pardon  of  Your 
Highness,  but  this  man  has  proved  himself  a  horse 
man." 

The  prince  combed  his  great  forked  beard  with  his 
fingers,  and  looked  at  the  young  peasant  with  a  con 
templative  eye.  John  surmised  that  Pappenheim  stood 
well  with  him,  and  would  be  forgiven. 

"The  test  was,  perhaps,  severe,"  he  said,  "but  the 
young  man  seems  to  have  endured  it  well.  I  might 
say  that  in  his  own  little  world  he  has  achieved  a 
triumph.  Send  him  to  the  stables,  and  tell  Walther, 
the  head  groom,  to  give  him  work." 

After  the  one  examining  glance  he  no  longer  looked 
at  John  who  had  now  disappeared  from  his  own 
world.  John  had  no  fear  of  detection.  He  had  let 
his  semblance  of  a  young  beard  grow  again,  and  Prince 
Karl  of  Auersperg  would  not  dream  of  his  presence 
there  in  the  mountains  of  Austria. 

"Thanks,  Your  Highness,"  he  said,  again  bowing 
respectfully.  A  groom  took  the  horse  and  Pappen 
heim  went  with  him  to  the  stables,  where  he  recom 
mended  him  specially  to  Walther,  a  stalwart  Tyrolean, 
who  was  evidently  glad  to  have  him,  as  he  was  short 
of  help. 

"Treat  him  well,  Walther,  because  he  will  be  of 
use,"  said  Pappenheim.  "He  has  ridden  my  own  horse 
and  no  one  but  myself  has  ever  done  that  before." 

The  Tyrolean's  eyes  gleamed  with  wonder  and 
approval. 

"Then  you  must  know  horses,"  he  said,  and  put  him 
to  work  at  once  in  the  stables.  John  toiled  with  a 

2IO 


THE  FAIR  CAPTIVE 

will.  All  things  still  moved  as  he  could  wish  them 
to  go.  The  blessings  upon  his  errand  that  he  had  re 
ceived  were  not  without  effect.  It  was  true  that  he 
was  but  a  stable  boy,  but  he  was  within  the  precincts 
of  the  castle  of  Auersperg,  and  Julie  was  but  a  few 
hundred  yards  away.  He  recalled  an  old  line  or  two, 
from  Walter  Scott,  he  thought: 

And  he  bowed  his  pride 

To  ride  a  horse-boy  in  his  train. 

As  he  remembered  it,  the  service  had  a  motive  some 
what  similar  to  his  own,  and  he  was  glad  to  "bow 
his  pride,"  because  he  believed  that  he  would  have 
ample  chance  to  raise  it  up  again.  As  he  went  about 
his  work  singing  and  whistling  softly  to  himself,  he 
cast  many  a  glance  up  at  the  huge  castle. 

Truly  Zillenstein  had  been  a  great  fortress.  In  the 
old  days  it  must  have  been  impregnable.  Much 
of  it  was  still  standing  in  its  ancient  strength.  John 
saw  that  the  walls  were  many  feet  thick,  and  that  in 
the  older  parts  the  windows  were  mere  slits  through 
which  a  human  body  could  not  pass. 

A  much  more  modern  addition  to  the  right  wing 
had  been  built,  and  John  surmised  that  Prince  Karl 
and  his  suite  lived  there.  Auersperg  might  have 
medieval  notions  of  caste,  but  he  was  certain  to  have 
modern  ideas  of  luxury. 

He  worked  hard  through  all  the  rest  of  the  day. 
What  a  lucky  thing  it  was  that  he  had  always  liked 
horses,  and  had  spent  that  year  on  the  western  ranch 
of  his  uncle!  Horses  were  the  same  everywhere,  and 

211 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

as  far  as  he  could  see  they  responded  as  readily  to 
kind  treatment  in  Europe  as  in  America.  The  same 
friendly  disposition  that  won  him  the  favor  of  people 
was  now  winning  him  the  favor  of  animals,  and 
Walther,  who  had  spent  fifty  years  in  the  stables, 
complimented  him  on  his  soothing  touch.  John  saw 
that  he  had  made  a  new  friend,  and  he  meant  to  use 
him  as  a  source  of  information. 

He  soon  learned  that  Prince  Karl  would  not  stay 
long  at  Zillenstein.  He  had  come  there,  partly,  to 
meet  several  great  officers  of  Austria  and  confer  with 
them.  His  position  as  a  Prussian  general  and  a  prince 
of  both  empires  made  him  the  most  suitable  person 
for  the  duty,  and  Zillenstein,  in  the  heart  of  Austria, 
was  the  best  place  for  the  meeting. 

Walther,  a  taciturn  man,  volunteered  so  much,  but 
he  went  no  farther,  and  John,  despite  his  great 
anxiety,  did  not  ask  any  questions.  He  knew  that  he 
was  a  too  recent  arrival  at  Zillenstein  to  be  making 
inquiries  without  arousing  suspicion,  and  it  was  better 
anyhow  to  go  slowly.  Late  in  the  afternoon,  Walther 
directed  him  to  saddle  and  bridle  a  fine  young  horse 
and  lead  him  to  the  front  of  the  castle. 

"One  of  the  young  noblemen  who  was  wounded 
in  a  great  battle  in  the  west  has  been  recovering  from 
his  wound  at  Zillenstein,"  he  said,  "and  he  has  been 
riding  every  day  toward  evening.  You  will  hold  the 
horse  until  he  comes,  but  he  is  always  prompt." 

John  led  the  horse,  a  fine  young  bay,  along  a  curv 
ing  road,  until  he  stood  before  the  entrance  of  the 
castle.  There  he  waited  in  silence,  but  he  was  using 

212 


THE  FAIR  CAPTIVE 

his  eyes  all  the  time.  He  admired  the  great  size  and 
strength  of  Zillenstein,  even  in  its  decayed  state,  and 
he  was  confirmed  in  his  belief  that  the  prince  and  his 
suite  inhabited  the  extension  of  the  right  wing.  Doubt 
less  Julie  and  Suzanne  should  be  sought  there. 

While  he  stood  holding  the  horse  one  or  two  soldiers 
passing  gave  him  scrutinizing  looks,  and  a  couple  of 
trim  Austrian  maids  did  likewise,  smiling  at  the  same 
time,  because  John  was  very  good  looking,  despite 
his  fuzzy  young  beard.  He  smiled  back  at  them,  as 
became  one  of  his  lowly  station  who  had  met  with 
approval,  and  whispering  to  each  other  they  passed 
on.  Now,  he  had  two  more  new  friends,  and  it 
occurred  to  him  that  these  maids  also  might  be  of 
use  to  him  in  his  great  quest.  He  had  formed  his 
plan  and  like  a  good  general  he  was  marshaling  every 
possible  force  for  its  success. 

While  he  was  thinking  about  it,  the  convalescent 
came,  a  young  officer,  trim,  slender,  in  a  fine  uniform 
of  blue  and  silver.  It  was  none  other  than  that  same 
lad,  Leopold  Kratzek,  whom  he  had  saved  in  the 
fight  at  the  trench.  In  his  surprise  John  came  very 
near  to  greeting  him  by  name,  but  luckily  he  controlled 
himself  in  time. 

He  noticed  that  Kratzek  was  almost  entirely  re 
covered.  The  color  in  his  face  was  fresh,  his  walk 
was  firm  and  elastic,  and  John  was  glad  of  it.  He 
liked  the  lad  whose  life  he  had  saved.  He  recalled, 
too,  that  his  presence  there  was  not  strange.  Kratzek 
was  the  relative  of  Auersperg,  and  it  was  natural 
that  he  should  be  sent  to  Zillenstein  to  recover. 

213 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

The  young  Austrian  glanced  at  the  new  groom, 
but  there  was  no  sign  of  recognition  on  his  face. 

"I  have  not  seen  you  before,"  he  said. 

"No,  sir,"  replied  John,  "I've  just  come  today. 
I've  been  wandering  eastward  from  Lorraine,  where 
I  was  born,  and  the  Herr  Walther  has  been  kind 
enough  to  give  me  work." 

"You're  the  man  of  whom  I  heard  Pappenheim 
speak  so  well.  He  has  been  telling  us  all  how  a  wan 
dering  peasant  rode  that  black  devil  of  his." 

*'I  am  fortunate  in  understanding  horses." 

"Well,  you've  made  a  friend  in  Pappenheim." 

John  gave  him  the  reins  and  Kratzek,  drawing  him 
self  a  little  stiffly  into  the  saddle,  cantered  away.  John, 
although  not  recognized,  felt  as  if  he  had  met  a 
friend  again,  and  Zillenstein  seemed  less  lonely  to 
him. 

He  watched  Kratzek  riding  down  the  mountain 
until  the  firs  and  pines  hid  him,  and  then,  as  he  turned 
to  go  back  to  the  stables,  he  found  the  two  maids 
near  him,  a  little  forward,  and  yet  a  little  shy,  but 
wholly  curious  about  the  handsome  young  stranger. 

Bearing  in  mind  that  the  news  of  the  household, 
even  of  a  huge  castle,  filtered  most  often  through 
women,  he  smiled  back  at  them  and  said  pleasantly 
in  his  new  German : 

"Good  morning.     May  I  ask  your  names?" 

One  was  blond  and  the  other  brunette,  and  the 
brunette  answered : 

"We're  Use  and  Olga,  maids  of  the  household  of 
His  Highness,  Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg." 

214 


THE  FAIR  CAPTIVE 

"And  very  pretty  maids,  too,"  said  John  gallantly, 
as  he  took  off  his  cap  and  bowed.  "When  I  look  at 
Use  I  think  she  is  the  more  beautiful,  when  I  look 
at  Olga  I  think  she  is  the  more  beautiful,  but  when  I 
see  them' together  I  think  they  are  equally  beautiful." 

They  giggled  and  nudged  each  other. 

"You  are  the  man  who  rode  the  young  count's 
horse,"  said  Use,  who  took  the  lead  in  talk  as  bru 
nettes  usually  do,  "and  I  hope  you  will  pardon  our 
forwardness  in  wishing  to  look  at  so  wonderful  a 
person." 

There  was  a  wicked  little  glint  in  her  eye,  but  John 
only  smiled  again. 

"I  was  lucky,"  he  said. 

"We  saw  you,"  said  Olga.  "We  were  standing  on 
the  edge  of  the  lower  terrace  when  you  sprang  into 
the  saddle.  We  were  sure  you  would  be  killed." 

"But  we  were  glad  you  were  not,"  said  Use.  "We 
were  pleased  when  we  saw  you  riding  the  great  black 
horse  directly  back  to  the  castle.  Do  you  mean  to 
stay  here  all  the  time?" 

"Where  there  is  so  much  beauty  and  wit  I  should 
like  to  remain,"  replied  John  with  increasing  gal 
lantry,  still  holding  his  cap  in  his  hands,  "but  who  can 
tell  where  he  will  be  a  week  hence  in  times  like 
these?" 

Again  they  laughed  and  nudged  each  other.  Use 
had  a  shrewd  and  observant  mind. 

"Your  German  has  a  French  accent,"  she  said. 

"I  was  born  in  a  land  that  was  once  French — 
Lorraine — so  my  blood  is  French  by  descent,  although 

215 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

I  am  wholly  German  in  loyalty  and  in  feeling.  But 
I'm  not  the  first  person  of  French  blood  that  you  ever 
saw,  am  I?" 

He  asked  the  question  in  a  careless  tone,  but  he 
awaited  the  answer  with  anxiety. 

"Oh,  no,"  replied  Use.  "Many  people  come  to  the 
great  castle  of  Zillenstein.  Two  Frenchwomen  are 
here  now,  spies,  terrible  spies  they  say,  but  I  can  scarce 
believe  it,  at  least  of  the  young  one,  Mademoiselle 
Julie,  who  is  so  beautiful,  and  who  speaks  to  us  so 
gently." 

"But  it  may  be  true  of  the  other  of  low  degree, 
the  surly  Suzanne,"  said  blond  Olga. 

"At  least,  they're  where  they  can't  get  back  to 
France  as  long  as  this  war  lasts,"  said  John,  looking 
up  at  the  formidable  castle.  "It  seems  a  sad  thing 
to  me  that  women  should  be  spies.  It  isn't  right." 

He  spoke  in  his  most  engaging  manner.  Again  his 
frank  look  and  attractive  smile  were  winning  him 
friends  where  he  needed  friends  most.  He  saw,  too, 
that  he  was  on  a  subject  that  interested  the  maids. 
Once  more  fortune  was  favoring  him  who  wooed  her 
so  boldly. 

"But,"  said  the  blond  and  substantial  Olga,  "I 
think  the  beautiful  Mademoiselle  Lannes  is  in  no 
danger.  The  prince  himself  loves  her  and  would 
marry  her.  We  can  see  it,  can  we  not  Use?" 

"At  least  we  think  it." 

"We  know  it.  And  His  Highness  might  search 
Europe  and  not  find  a  woman  more  beautiful.  She 
has  the  most  wonderful  hair,  pure  gold,  with  little 

216 


THE  FAIR  CAPTIVE 

touches  of  copper,  when  the  firelight  or  the  sunlight  is 
deep  upon  it,  and  when  loosed  it  falls  to  her  knees. 
I  have  seen  it." 

"And  marvelous  blue  eyes,"  said  Use.  "A  dark  blue 
like  the  waters  of  our  mountain  lakes.  Oh,  no,  the 
Prince  of  Auersperg  can  never  punish  her!" 

John  laughed. 

"This  French  spy  seems  more  dangerous  as  a  cap 
tive  than  free,"  he  said. 

"That  is  so,"  said  Use,  seriously.  "If  Prince  Karl 
of  Auersperg,  powerful  as  he  is,  were  disposed  to 
punish  her,  the  others  would  not  let  him." 

"What  others?" 

"The  young  Count  Kratzek,  the  relative  of  the 
prince.  He  loves  her,  too,  and  he  scarcely  seeks  to 
hide  it.  And  Count  Pappenheim,  who  is  of  kin  to 
the  emperor,  worships  her  beauty." 

"The  lady  must  be  Psyche  herself,"  said  John. 

But  not  knowing  who  Psyche  was,  they  shook  their 
heads. 

"And  that  is  not  all,"  continued  Use.  "A  Prussian 
prince  was  here,  a  fine  and  gallant  man,  tall  and 
young.  He,  too,  is  at  the  feet  of  the  lovely  Made 
moiselle  Julie.  I  heard  him  say  that  he  had  seen 
her  before  she  was  brought  to  Zillenstein." 

John's  pulses  suddenly  beat  hard.  He  knew  in 
stinctively  the  identity  of  the  Prussian  prince,  but  he 
asked  quietly: 

"What  was  the  man  from  Prussia  called?" 

"Prince  Wilhelm  von  Arnheim.  I  was  present 
when  he  first  saw  here  the  beautiful  Mademoiselle 

217 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

Julie.  He  bent  before  her  and  kissed  her  hand,  as 
if  she  were  a  princess  herself.  The  look  that  he  gave 
her  was  full  of  love,  and  it  was  also  most  respectful. 
I,  Use  Brandt,  know." 

"I've  no  doubt  of  it,  because  you've  received  many 
such  looks  yourself,  beautiful  Use,"  said  John. 

"There  she  is  now!  At  the  window!"  exclaimed 
Olga. 

John  looked  at  once,  and  his  heart  leaped  within 
him.  Julie  stood  framed  in  a  window,  high  up  in  the 
new  part  of  the  castle.  The  light  seemed  to  fall  upon 
her,  as  one  turns  it  in  a  flood  upon  a  picture,  and 
her  figure  was  in  the  center  of  a  glow  that  brought 
out  the  coppery  touches  in  the  wonderful  golden  hair, 
that  was  the  marvel  of  everybody.  She  seemed  to 
be  gazing  wistfully  over  the  misty  mountains,  and 
John's  heart  was  full  of  yearning. 

"I  can't  believe,"  said  Use,  "that  she  is  a  spy  or 
has  ever  been  a  spy.  She  has  not  the  look,  nor  the 
manner.  When  the  Prince  von  Arnheim  was  here 
they  gave  a  great  dinner,  and  Prince  Karl  bade  her 
come  to  it.  I  took  her  a  beautiful  dress  of  his  niece, 
who  is  away  in  Vienna.  I  thought  she  would  refuse, 
but  she  said  that  she  would  come  as  Prince  Karl  re 
quested.  I  was  her  maid,  I  dressed  her  and  she  was 
very  beautiful.  She  went  to  the  dinner,  and  the  aged 
Lady  Ursula,  the  cousin  and  dependent  of  the  prince, 
sat  with  her." 

"What  happened?"  asked  John  in  a  low  voice. 

"I  think  it  was  their  intention  at  first  to  remind 
her  that  she  was  a  prisoner.  Prince  Karl  is  a  hard 

218 


THE  FAIR  CAPTIVE 

and  stern  man,  and  he  would  bend  her  to  his  will, 
but  the  Prince  Wilhelm  frowned  upon  them  all,  and 
the  Count  Kratzek  was  also  most  respectful." 

"They  had  brought  her  to  complete  their  triumph 
and  instead  the  triumph  was  hers,"  John  could  not 
keep  from  saying. 

"It  is  so,"  admitted  Use.  "They  were  abashed  be 
fore  her,  and  at  the  last  when  they  drank  a  toast  to 
the  glorious  victory  of  our  German  race,  she  with 
held  her  glass,  and  then,  taking  a  sip  of  the  wine, 
she  said  she  wished  with  all  her  heart,  as  long 
as  it  should  beat  in  her  body,  for  the  triumph  of 
France.  That,  too,  I  saw,  and  while  I  do  not  wish 
for  the  triumph  of  France  it  was  thrilling  to  see  but 
one  and  a  girl  defying  so  many  strong  men." 

"I  wish  I  had  been  there  to  see,"  murmured  John. 

"What  did  you  say?"  asked  Olga. 

"That  only  a  very  brave  woman  could  have  done 
such  a  thing." 

"She  is  brave.  She  does  not  fear  any  of  them, 
and  the  woman  Suzanne  with  her  has  a  tiger's  temper." 

"But  she  loves  the  young  mademoiselle.  One  can 
see  that,"  said  Use,  "and  she  will  guard  her." 

John  wished  to  know  what  had  become  of  Antoine, 
but  he  did  not  dare  ask  pointed  questions.  Julie  left 
the  window  presently  and  the  light  went  with  her. 
The  sunlight  was  dying  now  on  the  eastern  mountains, 
but  a  great  happiness  came  to  him.  He  had  found 
her.  The  footsteps  of  the  crusader  had  been  guided 
aright.  His  star  had  led  him  on  through  many  dan 
gers,  and  his  spirit  was  high  with  hope. 

219 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

It  was,  perhaps,  well  that  the  growing  twilight 
kept  Use  and  Olga  from  seeing  the  glow  in  his  eyes, 
but  it  was  time  for  the  two  to  go,  and,  laughing  and 
supporting  each  other  in  what  they  considered  a  mild 
flirtation,  they  disappeared  within  the  castle.  John  sent 
a  smile  after  them.  They  were  good  girls  and  he  knew 
that  he  had  made  two  valuable  friends  who  would 
tell  him  all  that  was  happening  to  Julie  in  Zillenstein. 

He  went  back  to  the  stables  and  plunged  anew  into 
his  work  with  a  zeal  and  skill  that  aroused  the  admi 
ration  of  Walther.  His  knowledge  of  horses  was 
most  useful  to  him  now,  and,  as  he  had  also  learned 
much  about  automobiles  in  his  campaigning,  he  volun 
teered  to  help  with  them  too.  He  saw  the  great  limou 
sine  in  which  the  prince  himself  had  traveled,  and 
he  helped  two  of  the  hostlers  to  clean  it.  Walther 
growled  as  he  looked  on. 

"When  I  was  a  lad,"  he  said,  "the  magnificent, 
living  horse  was  king  at  Zillenstein.  Now  it's  a 
machine  that  can't  either  think  or  feel." 

"We  can't  fight  the  times,  Herr  Walther,"  said  John, 
cheerfully.  "The  automobile  like  the  railway  has  come 
to  stay." 

"I  suppose  so,  but  the  noble  Count  Kratzek  returns. 
Take  his  horse." 

John  went  forward  and  held  the  bridle  after  the 
young  Austrian  had  dismounted.  Kratzek  had  a  fine 
color  from  his  ride,  and  he  seemed  to  John  to  be 
completely  well  of  his  wound.  He  handed  the  young 
peasant  who  was  holding  his  horse  half  a  krone,  and 
then  walked  briskly  into  the  castle. 

220 


THE  FAIR  CAPTIVE 

John  put  the  little  silver  piece  in  his  pocket,  after 
having  touched  his  cap,  and  led  the  horse  into  the 
stable.  He  did  not  feel  humiliated.  He  found  some 
thing  humorous  in  receiving  a  tip  of  ten  cents  from 
the  man  whose  life  he  had  saved.  He  unsaddled  the 
horse,  put  him  in  his  stall,  rubbed  him  down,  and  came 
forth  to  receive  the  unqualified  praise  of  Walther. 

"You,  Castel,"  he  said,  "you're  a  fiend  for  work. 
I  can  see  that.  Most  of  my  men  look  upon  work  as 
an  enemy.  They  run  from  it  and  nide  from  it.  Now, 
come  you  to  the  kitchen  and  you  shall  eat  well  in 
reward." 

The  great  kitchen  for  the  servants  and  retainers, 
who  were  many,  was  in  the  basement  of  the  castle 
and  John,  his  appetite  sharp  from  the  day's  work, 
ate  bountifully.  The  obvious  fact  that  he  had  already 
won  the  regard  of  Walther,  a  man  of  importance, 
inspired  respect  for  him,  and  once  the  brunette  Use, 
flitting  through  the  kitchen,  gave  him  a  glance  of 
approval. 

He  slept  that  night  in  a  little  room  above  the  horses, 
but  first  he  saw  the  moon  rise  over  Zillenstein,  the 
valley  and  the  mountain,  a  vast  panorama,  white  and 
cold.  He  did  not  know  what  his  next  step  was  to  be. 
He  did  not  know  how  he  was  to  communicate  with 
Julie,  but  he  had  an  implicit  confidence  in  the  Provi 
dence  that  had  guided  him  so  far  and  so  well. 

Three  days  went  by  and  he  did  not  yet  find  the 
way,  but  he  saw  Julie  once  more  at  the  window  and 
yet  another  time  walking  on  the  terrace  in  front  of 
the  castle  accompanied  by  Suzanne.  He  was  walking 

221 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

Pappenheim's  restive  horse  back  and  forth  and  he 
was  not  a  hundred  feet  from  her,  but  he  knew  no 
sign  to  make.  The  air  was  cold  then,  and  she  was 
wrapped  in  the  long,  dark  red  cloak  that  he  knew. 
A  hood  also  of  dark  red  covered  her  head,  but  tiny 
curls  of  the  marvelous  golden  hair  escaped  from  it, 
their  glowing  color  deepening  by  contrast  the  pallor 
of  her  lovely  face.  Again  John's  heart,  overflowing 
with  pity  and  love,  yearned  for  her. 

The  crusader  worships  that  which  he  seeks.  John 
had  come  to  the  end  of  his  search,  but  apparently 
the  way  of  rescue  was  as  hard  as  ever.  He  saw 
her,  but  he  could  not  speak  to  her,  and  there  was 
no  way  to  let  her  know  that  he  was  near.  Suzanne, 
dark,  grim  and  powerful,  walked  a  step  or  two  behind 
her,  watching  over  her  with  a  love  that  was  ready 
for  any  sacrifice.  John  felt  a  deep  respect  for  this 
faithful  and  taciturn  woman  of  Normandy,  and  he 
was  devoutly  glad  that  she  was  there  to  be  a  comfort 
and  support  to  Julie  in  these  trying  days. 

As  John  walked  the  horse  up  and  down,  the  maid, 
Use,  passing  on  an  errand,  stopped  and  spoke  to  him. 

"It's  the  French  spy  and  her  maid,"  she  said.  "They 
allow  her  to  take  the  air  twice  a  day  upon  the  ter 
race.  I  can't  think  that  she  is  merely  a  spy.  It 
must  be  something  political,  too  high  for  such  as  you 
and  me  to  understand.  Perhaps  she  is  a  great  French 
lady  who  is  held  as  a  hostage.  Do  they  do  such  things 
in  war  now,  Jean  Castel?" 

"I  think  so." 

"Prince  Karl  sends  her  flowers  this  morning.    See, 

222 


THE  FAIR  CAPTIVE 

Olga  comes  with  them,  but  she  does  not  speak  French, 
nor  do  I.  She  will  not  know  from  whom  they  come.** 

Often  the  great  opportunity  appears  when  it  is  least 
expected.  A  trifle  may  open  the  way  and  John,  quick 
as  lightning,  saw  and  seized  his  chance.  Throwing 
the  reins  of  the  now  quiet  horse  over  a  pillar  he  said: 

"I  know  French,  as  I  come  from  Lorraine.  Let  me 
take  them." 

Without  waiting  for  her  assent  he  took  the  flowers 
from  the  hand  of  the  willing  Olga  and  walked  boldly 
across  the  terrace  to  Julie,  who  was  looking  over  the 
valley.  Bending  the  knee  he  offered  the  flowers, 
saying : 

"Prince  Karl  sends  you  these,  Mademoiselle 
Lannes." 

She  started  a  little  at  the  sound  of  his  voice  and 
he  continued  in  a  lower  tone : 

"Julie,  I've  come  across  Germany  for  you.  Make 
no  sign.  I'm  here  to  save  you.  I'm  a  groom  in  the 
prince's  stables!" 

He  saw  the  delicate  color  like  the  first  flush  of 
dawn  overspread  her  face,  and  a  light  that  had  never 
shone  for  any  other  spring  into  her  eyes.  All  the 
hardships  that  he  had  endured,  all  the  dangers  that 
he  had  run  were  as  nothing  now. 

"John,"  she  exclaimed,  in  a  voice  tremulous  with 
fear  for  him,  not  for  herself,  "you  must  leave  Zillen- 
stein  at  once!  Your  life  is  not  safe  here  for  a 
moment !" 

"When  I  go  you  go  with  me,"  he  said. 

They  had  spoken  rapidly  in  whispers  and  not  even 
223 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  Alii 

Suzanne  had  noticed.  Accustomed  now  to  the  servants 
in  the  castle  she  had  merely  seen  a  young  peasant 
bringing  flowers  from  the  prince  to  her  mistress.  They 
had  been  brought  before  and  there  was  nothing  unusual 
about  it. 

"Tell  the  prince  that  I  thank  him,"  said  Julie,  aloud, 
but  in  indifferent  tones. 

John  bowed  and  walked  back  toward  the  horse, 
his  heart  beating  hard  with  triumph  and  joy. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE   EFFICIENT    HOSTLER 

WHEN  John  Scott  returned  to  the  stables  his 
pulses  were  still  throbbing  with  joy  and  he 
trod  the  grass  of  the  Elysian  Fields.  -  Young 
love  is  pure  and  noble,  a  spontaneous  emotion  that  has 
nothing  in  it  of  calculation,  and  the  wild  and  strange 
setting  of  his  romance  merely  served  to  deepen  his 
feelings. 

He  was  the  young  crusader  again,  a  knight  coming 
to  rescue  his  lady  from  the  hands  of  the  infidels.  He 
had  made  the  impossible  possible.  He  had  seen  her 
and  spoken  with  her,  and  despite  his  peasant  clothes 
and  his  position  of  a  menial  that  he  had  willingly 
taken,  she  had  known  him  at  once.  He  had  seen 
the  deep  color  flushing  into  her  face  and  the  light  like 
the  first  arrow  of  dawn  spring  into  her  eyes,  and  he 
knew  that  he  had  not  come  in  vain. 

He  put  so  much  vigor  into  his  work,  and  he  whistled 
and  sang,  low  but  so  joyously  that  the  stolid  Walther 
took  notice. 

"Why  are  you  so  happy,  you  Castel?"  he  asked. 

"I've  seen  the  sun,  Herr  Walther." 

"There  is  nothing  uncommon  about  that.  The  sun 
has  risen  every  morning  for  a  million  years  and  more." 

225 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"But  not  this  sun,  Herr  Walther.  It  never  rose 
before  and  it's  the  brightest  and  most  glorious  of  them 
all." 

Walther  looked  up  at  the  sun.  It  was  in  truth 
bright,  casting  a  golden  glow  over  all  the  mountains, 
but  he  saw  nothing  new  about  it. 

"It's  a  fine  sun,  as  you  say,"  he  said,  "but  it's  the 
same  as  ever.  Ah,  you're  French  after  all — in  blood, 
I  mean,  I  don't  question  your  loyalty — and  you  see 
things  that  are  not.  Too  much  imagination,  Castel. 
Quit  it.  It's  not  wholesome." 

"But  I'm  enjoying  it,  Herr  Walther.  Imagination 
is  a  glorious  thing.  You  see  the  same  sun  that  I  do 
in  so  far  as  our  eyes  are  able  to  look  upon  it,  but  you 
do  not  see  it  in  the  same  way.  It  appears  far  more 
splendid  and  glorious  to  me  than  it  does  to  you.  Our 
eyes  are  mirrors  and  mine  reflect  today  with  much 
more  power  and  much  more  depth  of  color  than  yours 
do." 

Walther  stared  at  him,  comprehending  but  little 
of  what  he  had  said,  and  shook  his  head  slowly. 

"Your  French  blood  is  surely  on  top  now,  Castel," 
he  said.  "I  should  call  you  a  little  mad  if  you  didn't 
work  so  hard  r.nd  with  such  a  good  heart." 

"Ah,  well,  if  we  enjoy  our  madness,  pray  let  us 
remain  so." 

Walther  shook  his  head  again,  and  walked  away 
some  distance  where  he  stopped,  and  looked  long  at 
his  new  helper  who  toiled  with  uncommon  diligence 
but  who  whistled  and  sang  in  a  low  but  happy  manner 
as  he  toiled.  A  new  thought  was  slowly  making  its 

226 


THE  EFFICIENT  HOSTLER 

way  into  his  stolid  brain.  A  man  might  have  a  mad 
ness,  and  be  none  the  worse  for  it.  Well,  every  one 
to  his  own  madness. 

John  had  heard  from  Use  that  Julie  walked  on  the 
terrace  twice  every  day,  once  in  the  morning  and  once 
in  the  afternoon,  and  he  strove  so  to  arrange  his  work 
that  he  might  see  her  again  that  afternoon.  Know 
ing  that  he  was  already  a  favorite  with  Walther  he 
made  many  suggestions.  This  horse  or  that  needed 
exercise,  and  one  that  had  been  a  favorite  with  the 
prince  before  he  had  taken  to  the  automobile,  and 
that  even  now  was  often  ridden  by  him,  would  be 
all  the  better  for  sun  and  air.  Walther  agreed  with 
him  and  John  deftly  postponed  the  time  until  about 
four  o'clock,  the  warmest  and  brightest  part  of  the 
afternoon,  when  he  thought  it  most  likely  that  Julie 
would  come  again. 

He  led  the  horse  back  and  forth  along  a  road  that 
led  from  the  stables  to  a  forest  hanging  on  the  slope, 
being  in  sight  of  the  terrace  about  half  the  way.  But 
the  terrace  was  bare  and  it  was  not  until  he  had 
made  three  or  four  turns  that  Julie  with  her  following 
shadow,  Suzanne,  appeared.  Again  John's  heart  beat 
heavily,  and  the  hand  that  held  the  bridle  trembled. 
He  could  not  help  it.  His  mind,  highly  sensitive  and 
imaginative,  was  nevertheless  powerful  and  tenacious 
to  the  last  degree.  And  he  was  there  in  the  heart 
of  old  romance.  The  vast  castle,  gray  and  sinister, 
loomed  above  him,  but  beyond  was  the  golden  light 
on  the  mountains. 

He  did  not  try  to  attract  her  attention,  but,  walk- 
227 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

ing  calmly  on  with  the  horse,  poured  all  his  soul 
into  the  wish  that  she  would  look  his  way.  He  had 
not  the  remotest  belief  in  the  supernatural  as  he  told 
himself  again,  but  he  continued  to  wish  it  with  all 
his  power  and  strength,  and  presently  her  gaze  turned 
toward  the  young  peasant  and  the  horse  who  were 
walking  slowly  up  and  down  the  road.  He  was  too  far 
away  to  read  her  face,  but  his  fond  fancy  told  him 
that  she  rejoiced  again  to  see  him  there. 

She  looked  at  him  a  little  while,  but  she  made  no 
sign  or  signal.  He  expected  none.  She  would  know 
too  well  that  it  might  create  suspicion  and  from  some 
one  of  the  many  windows  of  the  castle  jealous  eyes 
might  be  watching. 

She  advanced  to  the  edge  of  the  terrace  with  her 
faithful  shadow  still  close  behind  her,  and  then  the 
prince  came.  He  was  in  a  white  and  silver  uniform 
of  Austria,  a  magnificent  figure  of  a  man,  despite  his 
middle  years,  and  his  great  brown  beard  gave  him  a 
majestic  aspect.  But  John  knew  that  his  eyes  were 
set  close  together  and  that  the  soul  behind  them  was 
unscrupulous  and  cruel. 

He  saw  Auersperg  take  off  his  gorgeous  hat  and 
bow  low  before  the  young  Julie.  Then  they  walked 
together  on  the  terrace,  the  dark  shadow  of  Suzanne 
following,  but  further  behind  now. 

John's  heart  was  filled  with  a  fierce  and  consuming 
rage.  The  presence  of  Auersperg,  magnificent,  tri 
umphant,  powerful,  a  medieval  baron  here  in  the 
most  medieval  of  all  settings,  a  very  monarch  indeed, 
brought  him  back  to  earth.  What  could  he  do  alone 

228 


THE  EFFICIENT  HOSTLER 

in  the  face  of  so  much  might?  What  could  Julie 
herself  do,  helpless,  before  so  much  pressure?  And, 
after  all,  from  his  point  of  view  and  from  the  point 
of  view  from  his  class,  Auersperg  was  making  her 
a  great  offer,  one  that  nobles  in  the  two  empires 
would  hold  to  be  most  honorable.  For  the  first  time 
he  felt  a  tremor  of  doubt,  and  then  he  stilled  it  as 
base  and  unworthy.  The  very  word  "morganatic" 
was  repulsive  to  him.  It  implied  that  the  man  stooped, 
and  that  the  woman  surrendered  something  no  real 
wife  could  yield.  Julie,  whose  blood  was  the  blood 
of  the  great  republican  marshal,  would  never  submit 
to  such  a  wrong. 

John  presently  saw  someone  standing  on  the  steps 
of  the  terrace,  and  as  he  turned  with  the  horse,  he 
beheld  a  wild  and  jealous  face.  It  was  young  Kratzek, 
and  he  was  watching  Auersperg  and  Julie.  He  was  only 
a  lad,  this  Austrian  noble,  but  John's  heart  felt  a  touch 
of  sympathy.  A  common  love  made  them  akin  and 
he  knew  that  Kratzek' s  love  like  his  own  was  the  love 
of  youth,  high  and  pure.  He  felt  neither  hate  nor 
jealousy  of  the  Austrian. 

His  eyes  went  back  to  Julie  and  Auersperg.  Their 
faces  were  turned  toward  him  now  and  he  could  ses 
that  it  was  the  prince  who  talked  and  that  Julie  lis 
tened,  saying  but  little.  The  thud  of  hoofs  on  the 
road  into  the  valley  came  to  him  and  Pappenheim, 
on  his  great  black  horse,  galloped  into  view.  But 
he  pulled  to  a  walk  when  he  saw  the  two  on  the 
terrace,  and  John  smiled  to  himself  in  grim  irony. 
Pappenheim  also  loved  the  ground  upon  which  the 

229 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

young  Julie  walked.  Von  Arnheim  and  von  Boehlen 
should  be  there,  too,  and  then  the  jealous  circle  would 
be  complete. 

Kratzek  presently  walked  away,  and  Pappenheim 
rode  slowly  past  the  castle  and  out  of  sight.  Julie 
turned  from  the  prince  and  looked  fixedly  for  a  little 
while  in  John's  direction.  He  felt  that  she  meant  it 
as  a  sign,  and  he  was  eager  to  reply  in  some  way, 
but  prudence  held  him.  Then  she  went  into  the  castle 
and  Auersperg  was  left  alone  on  the  terrace. 

John  saw  that  Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg  was  very 
thoughtful.  He  walked  slowly  back  and  forth,  his 
figure  magnified  in  the  sun's  glow,  and  now  and  then 
he  thoughtfully  stroked  his  great  brown  beard.  He 
seemed  to  John  more  than  ever  out  of  place.  His 
time  was  centuries  ago  among  the  robber  barons.  In 
such  a  group  he  would  not  have  been  the  worst,  but 
in  his  soul  John  wished  that  the  hour  for  all  such  as 
he  had  come.  If  the  great  war  struck  that  dead  trunk 
from  the  living  body  of  the  human  race  it  would  not 
be  fought  wholly  in  vain. 

He  went  into  the  castle  after  a  while,  his  walk 
slow  and  thoughtful,  and  John  returned  with  the  horse 
to  the  stables.  All  the  rest  of  the  day,  he  worked 
with  such  diligence  and  effect  that  Walther  bade  him 
rest. 

"You  may  go  about  the  castle  as  much  as  you 
please,"  he  said,  "and  you  may  enter  the  part  set  aside 
for  the  servants,  but  you  must  stop  there.  Nor  can 
you  go  beyond  the  immediate  castle  grounds.  If  you 
try  it  you  risk  a  shot  from  the  sentries." 

230 


THE  EFFICIENT  HOSTLER 

"I've  no  wish  to  be  shot  and  so  I'll  not  risk  it," 
said  John,  with  the  utmost  sincerity,  and  after  bath 
ing  his  face  and  hands,  he  strolled  through  the  grounds 
of  Zillenstein,  his  course  soon  and  inevitably  leading 
him  toward  the  addition  to  the  right  wing  from  the 
windows  of  which  lights  were  shining.  Yet  the 
grounds  outside  were  heavy  with  shrubbery,  and,  keep 
ing  hidden  in  it,  he  advanced  farther  and  farther,  eager 
to  see. 

He  was  not  yet  twenty  yards  from  the  walls  and 
he  saw  human  figures  passing  before  the  windows. 
Then  a  dark  form  presently  slipped  from  a  small  door 
and  stood  a  moment  or  two  on  the  graveled  walk,  as 
if  undecided.  John  felt  the  pulses  beating  hard  in  his 
temples.  He  knew  that  stalwart  figure.  It  was  none 
other  than  the  grim  and  faithful  Suzanne  and,  daring 
all,  he  went  to  the  very  edge  of  the  shrubbery,  calling 
in  a  loud  whisper : 

"Suzanne !  Suzanne !" 

She  stood  attentive,  glanced  about,  and,  seeing  that 
no  one  observed  her,  came  to  the  edge  of  the  deep 
shadow. 

"Suzanne!  Suzanne!"  called  John  again.  "It  is  I, 
John  Scott!  Have  you  any  message  for  me  from 
Mademoiselle  Julie?" 

She  looked  again  to  see  that  none  was  near,  and 
then  stepped  boldly  into  the  shrubbery,  where  John 
seized  her  arm  half  in  entreaty  and  half  to  hurry  her. 

"O,  Suzanne!  Suzanne!"  he  repeated,  with  fierce 
insistence.  "Have  you  any  word  for  me?" 

They  were  completely  in  the  heavy  shadow  now, 
231 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

between  the  short  clipped  pines,  where  no  one,  even 
but  a  few  feet  away,  could  see,  and  before  replying 
she  looked  at  him,  her  grim  face  relaxing  into  a  smile. 
She  had  always  watched  him  before  with  a  sort  of 
angry  jealousy,  but  John  believed  that  he  now  read 
welcome  and  gladness  in  her  eyes. 

"Suzanne!  Suzanne!"  he  repeated,  his  insistence 
ever  growing  stronger.  "Is  there  no  word  for 
me?" 

"Aye,"  she  said,  "my  mistress  bids  me  tell  you  that 
she  is  grateful,  that  she  understands  all  you  have 
risked  for  her  sake,  that  she  can  never  repay  you  suf 
ficiently  for  your  great  service,  and  that  she  feels 
safer  because  you  are  near." 

"Ah,"  breathed  John,  "it  is  worth  every  risk  to 
hear  that." 

"But  she  fears  for  you.  She  knows  that  you  are 
in  great  danger  here.  If  they  discover  who  you  are, 
you  perish  .at  once  as  a  spy.  So  she  bids  me  tell 
you  to  go  away.  It  is  easy  to  escape  from  here  to 
the  Italian  frontier.  She  would  not  have  you  lose 
your  life  for  her." 

"Is  it  because  my  life  is  of  more  value  to  her  than 
that  of  any  other  man?  Oh,  tell  me,  I  pray  you?" 

Another  of  her  rare  smiles  passed  over  the  grim 
face  of  the  woman. 

"It  is  a  question  that  Mademoiselle  Julie  alone  can 
answer,"  she  said.  "But  when  she  went  to  her  room 
she  wept  a  little  and  her  tears  were  not  those  of 
sorrow." 

"Oh,  then,  Suzanne,  she  is  indeed  glad  that  I  am 
232 


THE  EFFICIENT  HOSTLER 

here.     Tell  her  that  I  came  for  her,  and  that  I  will 
not  go  away  until  she  goes  too." 

"She  is  in  no  great  danger  here;  she  is  a  prisoner, 
but  they  treat  her  as  a  guest,  one  of  high  degree." 

"Auersperg  would  force  her  to  marry  him." 

Suzanne  smiled  once  more,  but  gravely. 

"The  prince  would  marry  her,"  she  said,  "and  he 
is  not  the  only  one  who  wishes  to  do  so.  But  fear 
not.  Auersperg  cannot  force  her  to  marry  him.  She 
is  of  the  same  tempered  steel  as  her  brother,  the  great 
Monsieur  Philip.  Were  she  a  man  as  he  is,  she 
would  dare  as  much  as  he  does,  and  being  a  woman 
she  will  dare  in  a  woman's  way  none  the  less." 

"And  the  others,  Kratzek  and  Pappenheim,  and  von 
Arnheim  if  he  should  come,  they  are  young  and  brave 
and  true !  Might  she  not,  as  the  only  way  of  escape 
from  the  high-handed  baron,  marry  >ne  of  them?" 

For  the  fourth  time  Suzanne  smiled.  Never  before 
had  she  permitted  herself  that  luxury  so  many  times 
in  a  month,  but  there  was  an  odd  glint  in  this  latest 
smile  of  hers,  which  gave  to  her  face  a  rare  look  of 
softness. 

"Nor  will  she  marry  any  of  them,"  she  said,  "al 
though  they  are  brave  and  honest  and  true  and  love 
her.  Mademoiselle  Julie  has  her  own  reasons  which 
she  does  not  tell  to  me,  but  I  know.  She  will  not 
marry  Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg.  She  will  not  marry 
Prince  Wilhelm  von  Arnheim,  she  will  not  marry 
Count  Leopold  Kratzek,  she  will  not  marry  Count 
Maximilien  Pappenheim.  Do  I  not  know  her  well,  I 
who  have  been  with  her  all  her  life?" 

233 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

And  once  more  that  smile  with  the  odd  glint  in  it 
passed  over  her  stern  face.  But  John  in  the  thickening 
dusk  could  not  see  it,  although  her  low  earnest  voice 
carried  conviction. 

"Tell  her  for  me,  will  you,  Suzanne,"  he  said,  "that 
I  think  I  can  take  her  from  the  castle  of  Zillenstein. 
Tell  her,  too,  that  I  am  in  little  danger  in  my  peasant's 
clothes.  I  have  been  face  to  face  with  the  prince 
himself  and  he  has  shown  no  sign  of  recognition, 
nor  has  Count  Kratzek  who  was  my  prisoner  once. 
Tell  her  that  I  will  not  go.  Tell  her  that  my  heart 
is  light  because  she  fears  for  my  safety  and,  O  Su 
zanne,  tell  her  that  I  will  watch  over  her  the  best  I  can, 
until  all  of  us  escape  from  this  hateful  castle." 

"It  is  much  to  tell.     How  can  I  remember  it  all?" 

"Then  tell  her  all  you  remember." 

"That  I  pi  jm._e.  And  now  it's  time  for  me  to  go 
back.  We  cannot  risk  too  much." 

She  turned  away,  but  John  had  another  question  to 
ask  her.  His  heart  smote  him  that  he  had  not  thought 
of  Picard. 

"Your  father,  Suzanne?"  he  said.  "I  have  not 
heard  of  him.  Is  he  here?" 

"They  left  him  a  prisoner  at  Munich.  Doubtless  he 
will  escape  and  he,  too,  will  reach  Zillenstein." 

"Tell  Mademoiselle  Julie  that  her  brother  did  not 
come  to  the  appointed  meeting  at  Chastel,  because 
he  was  wounded.  Not  badly.  Don't  be  alarmed, 
Suzanne.  He'll  be  as  well  as  ever  soon." 

"Then  he,  too,  will  come  to  Zillenstein.  You  are 
not  the  only  one  who  seeks,  Monsieur  Scott." 

234 


THE  EFFICIENT  HOSTLER 

"But  I  am  the  first  to  arrive.  Nothing  can  take  that 
from  me." 

"It  is  true.  Now  I  must  hasten  back  to  the  castle. 
If  I  stay  longer  they  will  suspect  me." 

She  slipped  from  the  shrubbery  and  was  gone,  and, 
John,  afire  with  new  emotions,  strolled  in  a  wide  circuit 
back  to  the  stables. 

A  week  went  by.  Twice  every  day  he  saw  Julie 
on  the  terrace,  but  no  word  passed  between  them,  the 
chance  never  came.  But  the  hosts  of  the  air  were 
at  work.  The  invisible  currents  were  passing  between 
the  girl  on  the  terrace  who  was  treated  like  a  princess 
and  the  young  peasant  who  walked  the  horses  in  the 
road. 

"Be  not  afraid.  I  have  a  strength  more  than  my 
own  to  save  you,"  came  on  a  wave  of  air. 

"I  fear  not  for  myself,  only  for  you  lest  they  dis 
cover  you,"  came  the  answering  wave. 

"I  love  you.  You  are  the  most  beautiful  woman 
in  the  world  and  the  bravest.  It's  cause  for  pride 
to  risk  death  for  you." 

"I  know  that  you  are  here  for  me.  I  knew  that 
you  would  come,  when  I  saw  you  in  Metz.  I  know 
that  under  your  peasant's  garb  you  are  a  prince,  more 
of  a  real  prince  than  any  Auersperg  that  ever  lived." 

John  was  outside  of  himself.  He  felt  sometimes 
as  if  he  had  left  his  body  behind.  The  spirit  of  the 
crusader  was  still  upon  him,  and  in  sight  of  his  be 
loved,  the  prize  that  he  had  reached  but  not  yet  won, 
he  cast  aside  all  thought  of  danger  or  failure  and 
awaited  the  event,  whatever  it  might  be,  with  the 

235 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

supreme  confidence  of  youth.  It  is  but  truth  to  say 
that  he  was  happy  in  those  days,  filled  with  a  stolen 
delight,  all  the  sweeter  because  it  was  stolen  under 
the  very  eyes  of  the  medieval  baron,  lord  almost  of 
life  and  death,  who  was  master  there. 

He  steadily  advanced  in  the  good  graces  of  Walther. 
No  othei  such  industrious  and  skillful  groom  had  ap 
peared  at  Zillenstein  in  many  a  day,  and  he  rapidly 
acquired  dexterity  also  with  the  automobiles.  None 
could  send  them  spinning  with  more  certainty  along 
the  curving  mountain  roads.  He  practiced  with  dili 
gence  because  he  had  a  vague  premonition  that  all 
this  knowledge  would  be  of  use  to  him  some  day. 

Pappenheim  went  away,  but  returned  after  four 
days.  John  fancied  that  he  had  been  in  Vienna,  but 
he  knew  the  magnet  that  had  brought  him  back.  He 
saw  the  young  Austrian's  eyes  flame  more  than  once 
when  Julie  appeared  in  her  favorite  place  on  the  ter 
race.  And  yet  John  neither  hated  nor  feared  him. 

Kratzek  was  well  enough  to  go  back  to  the  battle 
front,  but  he  lingered.  John  did  not  know  what 
excuses  he  gave,  but  he  was  there,  and  his  eyes,  too, 
burned  when  Julie  passed. 

Often  in  the  evening  he  watched  for  the  grim 
Suzanne  and  the  word  that  she  would  bring,  but  she 
did  not  come.  Day  by  day  he  saw  her,  the  long  black 
shadow  behind  her  mistress,  but  she  never  looked 
toward  him,  however  intensely  he  wished  it. 

The  prince  went  forth  occasionally,  but  he  always 
used  an  automobile  and  he  was  never  gone  longer 
than  a  day.  John  wondered  why  he  remained  so  long 

236 


THE  EFFICIENT  HOSTLER 

at  Zillenstein,  knowing  that  he  was  a  general  in  the 
German  army  and  a  man  of  weight  at  the  battle 
front.  He  concluded  at  last  that  he  must  be  waiting 
there  for  a  conference  of  some  kind  between  impor 
tant  men  of  Germany  and  Austria.  He  had  heard 
through  the  gossip  in  the  castle  that  Italy  was  threat 
ening  war  on  Austria,  and  the  Teutonic  powers  must 
now  face  also  toward  the  southwest.  Much  might 
be  decided  at  Zillenstein. 

Use  and  Olga  were  still  his  best  sources  of  infor 
mation.  Very  little  that  passed  in  the  castle  missed 
.their  shrewd  inquiring  minds,  and  they  had  found  in 
the  handsome  young  peasant  from  Lorraine  one  with 
whom  they  liked  to  talk.  He  jested  and  laughed  with 
them  but  there  was  a  certain  reserve  on  his  part  that 
they  could  not  break  down  but  which  drew  them  on. 
He  would  not  flirt  with  them.  None  was  readier  than 
he  for  light  words  and  airy  compliments,  but  nothing 
that  he  said  permitted  either  of  the  trim  young 
Austrian  girls  to  think  that  he  might  become  a  lover. 

"I  think,  Herr  Johann,"  said  Use,  "that  you  have 
left  behind  in  Lorraine  a  maid  whom  you  love." 

"It  may  be  so,"  said  John  vaguely.  "I  saw  one 
in  Metz  whom  anybody  could  love." 

"What  was  she  like?"  asked  Use,  eagerly. 

"A1  skin  the  tint  of  the  young  rose,  eyes  like  the 
dawn  on  a  summer  morning,  hair  a  shower  of  the 
finest  spun  silk,  and  a  walk  like  that  of  a  young 
goddess." 

"It's  beautiful,  but  it  doesn't  describe;  what  was 
the  color  of  her  hair  and  eyes  ?" 

237 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"I  don't  know.  They  dazzled  me  so  much  that  I 
merely  remember  their  loveliness  and  glory." 

"It  can't  be!"  exclaimed  Use,  who  did  not  walk  in 
Elysian  paths.  "You  jest  with  us.  You  recall  her 
hair  and  eyes." 

John  shook  his  head  impressively. 

"The  French  prisoner,  the  one  they  call  a  spy,  Made 
moiselle  Lannes,  is  the  most  beautiful  woman  I've 
ever  seen,"  said  blond  Olga,  "but  no  one  could  look  at 
her  without  remembering  the  color  of  her  hair  and  eyes, 
such  a  marvelous  gold  and  such  a  deep,  dark  blue." 

"His  Highness,  Prince  Karl,  remembers  them  well," 
said  Use. 

"But  not  better  than  the  young  Count  Kratzek," 
said  Olga. 

"Nor  better  than  Count  Pappenheim." 

"And  yet  they're  going  to  send  her  away." 

"It's  because  the  generals  and  princes  are  coming 
for  the  great  council  and  they  wouldn't  have  more 
to  fall  in  love  with  her." 

"And  it  might  give  even  Prince  Karl  trouble  to 
answer  questions  why  she  is  here." 

John's  pulses  began  to  beat  heavily  despite  all  his 
efforts  at  calmness  and  he  turned  his  face  away  that 
they  might  not  see  the  eager  light  in  his  eyes.  When 
he  had  mastered  himself  sufficiently  to  use  a  quiet 
voice  he  asked: 

"When  is  this  great  council  of  which  yon  speak?" 

"In  three  or  four  days,"  replied  Use.  "We  hear 
that  many  Serene  Highnesses  are  coming  from  both 
Berlin  and  Vienna." 

238 


THE  EFFICIENT  HOSTLER 

"And  the  French  girl  is  to  be  carried  away  before 
they  come?" 

"She  goes  the  day  after  tomorrow  with  the  dark 
woman,  Suzanne,  to  the  hunting  lodge  of  His  High 
ness,  higher  in  the  mountains." 

Then  with  a  frightened  gesture  she  clapped  her 
hand  upon  her  mouth. 

"You  will  say  nothing  of  it,  Herr  Johann?"  she 
pleaded.  "It  is  a  secret  from  all  but  a  few,  and  His 
Highness  doubtless  would  punish  us  terribly  if  he 
knew  that  we  told." 

"You  can  trust  me,  Use,"  said  John  earnestly.  "I 
would  not  bring  trouble  upon  you  or  Olga.  Besides, 
what  is  it  to  me?" 

He  sought  by  indirect  questions  to  learn  more  from 
them,  but  they  would  not  continue,  seeming  to  be 
afraid  that  they  had  already  said  too  much.  Then 
he  turned  casually  from  the  subject,  lest  he  rouse 
suspicion,  and  spoke  of  his  horses.  But  all  the  while 
he  was  searching  his  mind,  as  one  looks  for  a  treasure, 
to  discover  how  he  could  follow  Julie  and  Suzanne 
to  their  new  abode. 

He  gathered  from  Walther  that  the  hunting  lodge 
was  higher  in  the  mountains  in  the  depths  of  a  great 
forest,  about  six  leagues  from  Zillenstein  where  there 
was  much  big  game.  In  times  of  peace  the  prince 
frequently  went  there,  and  a  good  automobile  road 
led  to  the  lodge,  although  in  winter  the  snow  was 
often  so  deep  that  the  place  was  inaccessible. 

Late  that  afternoon  the  hoofs  of  horses  beat  steadily 
on  the  road  leading  from  the  valley  up  to  Zillenstein. 

239 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

John  from  a  coign  of  vantage  saw  approaching  a 
young  man  in  a  gray  German  uniform,  followed  by 
four  hussars,  also  in  German  gray.  Anyone  who 
came  to  Zillenstein  was  of  interest,  and  as  John  looked 
the  leading  figure  became  familiar.  Doubt  soon 
changed  to  certainty.  He  knew  the  swing  of  the 
broad  shoulders  and  the  high  pose  of  the  head.  It 
was  the  young  prince,  von  Arnheim. 

"And  so  they  all  gather,"  said  John  to  himself. 

He  was  swept  by  the  little  shiver  that  one  often 
feels  when  influenced  suddenly  by  a  powerful  emo 
tion.  Fate  or  chance  had  a  wonderful  way  of  bring 
ing  about  strange  things.  He  had  seen  it  too  often 
not  to  know.  He  was  sure  in  his  heart  now  that  von 
Boehlen  too  would  come  some  time  and  somehow. 

He  looked  at  the  terrace.  Julie  and  Suzanne  had 
appeared  there  in  the  last  few  minutes,  and  they 
were  gazing  at  the  gallant  figure  of  young  von  Arn 
heim  who  was  now  so  near.  The  prince  himself, 
when  he  saw  Julie,  sprang  from  his  horse,  ran  lightly 
up  the  steps,  and  bending  low  over  her  hand,  kissed 
it.  Nor  did  John  feel  jealousy  or  hate  of  him. 

He  was  glad  that  von  Arnheim  had  come.  He 
was  sure  that  Julie  did  not  love  him  and  never  would, 
but  he  was  a  brave  and  honest  man  who  would  do 
no  wrong.  Julie  was  safer  from  insult  with  him  near. 
To  the  rank  of  Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg  he  could 
oppose  a  rank  the  equal  of  his  own. 

He  was  too  far  away  to  hear  their  words  or  even 
to  note  their  faces,  but  he  saw  the  young  prince  talk 
•with  her  for  a  little  space  and  then  go  into  the  castle, 

240 


THE  EFFICIENT  HOSTLER 

doubtless  to  notify  Auersperg  of  his  arrival.  Julie 
as  her  eyes  roved  about  the  great  panorama  of  moun 
tain  and  valley  saw  John,  and  the  wireless  messages 
of  their  eyes  passed  and  repassed  again. 

"I  know  that  you  are  watching  and  risking  your 
life  for  me,"  hers  said. 

"Gladly,"  his  replied. 

"I  like  Prince  Wilhelm  von  Arnheim,  but  it's  liking, 
not  love." 

"I  wish  to  believe  it  and  do." 

Then  the  little  waves  of  air  were  stilled,  as  she 
went  back  into  the  castle,  doubtless  because  she  feared 
to  arouse  suspicion,  and  John  returned  to  his  work 
with  Walther,  convinced  that  he  must  form  some  plan 
now.  Von  Arnheim  must  merely  be  the  vanguard 
of  the  council,  and  Julie  might  be  sent  away  earlier 
than  Use  had  announced.  He  must  contrive  a  way 
to  follow. 

That  night  he  lurked  once  more  in  the  shrubbery. 
He  had  been  there  nearly  every  night,  hopeful  that 
Suzanne  would  pass  again,  but  not  until  tonight  did 
she  come.  The  tall  figure,  swathed  almost  to  the  eyes 
in  a  heavy  cloak,  came  down  the  terrace  to  the  walk, 
and  John  whistled  low  a  note  of  a  French  folksong. 
He  had  merely  hoped  that  she  would  stop  a 
moment  or  two  to  listen,  and  the  little  device  suc 
ceeded.  She  paused  and  looked  at  the  black  mass  of 
the  shrubbery. 

"Suzanne!  Suzanne!"  called  John,  his  voice  show 
ing  all  the  intenseness  of  his  anxiety. 

"Monsieur  Scott,"  she  said  in  a  loud  whisper. 
241 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"Yes,  Suzanne,  here  behind  the  bushes!  I  must 
have  word  with  you!" 

Silently  she  stepped  into  the  impenetrable  shadows 
and  John  eagerly  seized  her  hand. 

"Your  mistress,  Mademoiselle  Julie,"  he  whispered 
eagerly,  "she  does  not  break  down  with  the  suspense 
and  anxiety?  She  still  hopes?" 

"You  need  not  fear  for  her  courage,  Monsieur 
Scott.  Did  I  not  tell  you  that  she  had  a  heart  of 
steel,  even  the  same  as  that  of  her  great  brother.  I 
should  not  tell  it  to  you,  but  she  has  never  despaired 
since  you  came." 

John's  fingers  closed  convulsively  upon  the  large 
muscular  hand  of  Suzanne  and  in  the  darkness  the 
woman's  grim  face  relaxed  into  a  smile. 

"You  are  holding  my  hand  not  that  of  Mademoiselle 
Julie,"  she  said. 

"Your  words  bring  me  such  joy,  Suzanne,  that  I 
forgot,  but  I  must  speak  to  your  mistress." 

"You  cannot.  It  is  impossible.  She  is  watched 
more  closely  than  ever." 

"But  there  is  news  that  she  must  know!  Then 
you  must  tell  it  to  her!" 

'  What  news  ?  You  surely  don't  mean  that  they 
will  try  her  on  this  ridiculous  charge  of  being  a  spy!" 

"No,  not  that,  Suzanne,  but  they're  preparing  to 
send  her  and  you  away." 

"And  glad  we  both  will  be  to  leave  this  hateful 
castle  of  Zillenstein." 

"But  it's  not  that  you  will  fare  better.  There  will  be 
no  chance  of  freedom  now.  You  are  to  be  sent  into 

242 


THE  EFFICIENT  HOSTLER 

the  higher  mountains  in  the  wilderness  to  a  hunting 
lodge  belonging  to  Auersperg.  You  will  be  hidden 
from  all  but  a  few  of  his  most  trusted  followers." 

"Then  we're  not  afraid.  We  shall  even  be  glad 
to  go  there,  anywhere  from  this  terrible  place.  We 
do  not  fear  the  woods,  my  mistress  and  I.  I  can  think 
they're  more  friendly  than  those  old  stone  walls  above 
us." 

"But  tell  her  this,  Suzanne,  I  pray  you,  that  I  shall 
follow  her  there." 

"How?" 

"I  don't  yet  know,  but  I  shall  find  a  way.  Tell 
her,  Suzanne,  that  I'll  never  leave  her  so  long  as  I'm 
alive." 

The  eyes  of  the  grim  woman  softened  singularly, 
as  she  gazed  in  the  dusk  at  the  young  man.  A  devo 
tion  such  as  his,  a  devotion  so  evident,  would  have 
moved  a  heart  of  stone.  Her  young  mistress  was 
dearer  than  anyone  else  in  the  world  to  her,  dearer 
than  her  own  father,  and  her  stern  spirit  relaxed 
wheh  she  saw  that  another  could  love  her  in  a  different 
way,  but  as  well. 

"I'll  tell  her,"  she  said,  "but  I  tell  you  that  'tis 
needless.  She  knows  already  that  wherever  she  goes 
you  will  follow.  Does  that  bring  any  comfort  to 
your  soul,  Mr.  Scott?" 

"Aye,  Suzanne,  it  fills  it  with  thankfulness.  Don't 
forget  to  tell  her  that  she  will  go  soon.  Von  Arn- 
heim,  Pappenheim  and  Kratzek  are  her  friends,  but 
they  can't  prevent  it  if  they  would.  It  may  be  too 
that  they  will  not  know  when  or  where  she  goes." 

243 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"She  shall  hear  everything  you  say  and,  remember, 
that  she  has  a  brave  heart.  She  has  less  fear  for 
herself  than  for  you." 

She  slipped  away  in  the  darkness  and  John  went 
back  to  his  own  little  place  over  the  stables  where 
he  passed  a  night  that  was  all  but  sleepless  thinking 
over  his  problem  and  finding  no  good  solution.  He 
meant  to  follow  Julie  and  Suzanne  in  any  event  to 
the  hunting  lodge,  but  it  was  not  sufficient  merely  to 
follow.  He  must  appear  in  some  capacity  that  would 
permit  him  to  be  of  service.  And  yet  Providence 
was  working  for  him  at  that  moment. 

Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg  in  his  magnificent  mod 
ernized  apartments  in  the  huge  castle  was  also  troubled 
by  an  inability  to  sleep.  Hitherto  in  his  fifty  or  more 
years  of  life  he  had  always  got  what  he  wanted. 
His  blood  was  more  ancient  that  that  of  either  Hohen- 
zollern  or  Hapsburg.  The  Auerspergs  had  been 
princes  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire  for  a  thousand 
years  and  now  he  was  a  prince  of  both  Teutonic 
empires  and  a  general  of  the  first  rank  in  the  army 
of  Germany.  His  wealth  was  so  vast  that  he  scarcely 
knew  the  extent  of  his  own  lands  and  here  in  Zillen- 
stein  he  could  maintain  the  power  and  state  that  ap 
pertained  to  a  baron  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

A  mind  that  has  only  to  wish  for  a  thing  to  get 
it  becomes  closed  in  fifty  years.  It  mistakes  desire 
for  right.  It  regards  opposition  as  sacrilege.  Other 
minds  that  differ  from  it  are  wicked  because  they 
differ.  The  thick  armor  of  Prince  Karl's  self-com 
placency  had  been  pierced  as  it  were  by  a  tiny  needle 

244 


THE  EFFICIENT  HOSTLER 

that  stung,  however  tiny,  as  if  its  point  were  laden 
with  poison. 

He,  the  omniscient  and  omnipotent,  had  been  defied 
and  by  whom?  A  mere  slip  of  a  girl!  A  child! 
She  was  not  even  of  his  own  race!  But  perhaps  it 
was  this  very  defiance  that  made  him  wish  for  her 
all  the  more.  He  loved  her  as  he  had  never  loved 
that  long-dead  wife,  a  plain  princess  who  always 
thought  what  she  was  told  to  think. 

But  he  would  take  Julie  in  all  honor  as  his  wife. 
He  could  not  make  her  a  princess  but  he  could  make 
her  a  countess,  and  he  would  clothe  her  in  a  golden 
shower.  There  had  been  hundreds  of  morganatic 
marriages.  They  implied  no  disgrace.  Noblewomen 
themselves  had  been  glad  to  make  them.  And  yet 
she  had  refused.  Nothing  could  move  her.  She  had 
not  even  flinched  a  particle  when  he  had  threatened 
her  otherwise  with  death  as  a  spy,  although  the  threat 
was  merely  words  on  his  lips  and  had  no  abiding  place 
in  his  heart.  She  was  most  beautiful  then,  when 
the  defiant  fire  flashed  in  her  dark  blue  eyes  and  the 
sunshine  coming  through  a  tall  stained  glass  window 
made  deep  red  tints  in  her  wonderful  golden  hair. 
It  was  maddening  to  think  of  her,  just  a  child  turn 
ing  into  a  woman,  and  wholly  in  his  power  defying 
him  as  if  he  were  some  humble  lieutenant  and  not 
the  mighty  Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg. 

He  rose  and  walked  angrily  back  and  forth.  Now 
and  then  he  went  to  a  window  and  looked  out  at  the 
dusky  panorama  of  valley,  mountain  and  shaggy- 
forest.  As  far  as  he  could  see  and  farther  it  was  all 

245 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

his  and  yet  he  was  powerless  in  the  matter  that  now 
concerned  him  more  than  all  others.  She  was  his 
prisoner,  and  yet  she  was  as  free  as  air.  Her  soul 
and  her  heart  were  her  own,  and  he  could  not  reach 
either.  He  knew  it.  That  knowledge  like  the  little 
poisoned  needle  had  punctured  the  triple-plate  of  his 
complacency  and  pride  and  left  him  no  relief  from 
pain,  a  pain  that  would  have  become  intolerable  had 
he  known  that  of  all  the  bars  that  stood  between  her- 
and  him  the  one  that  nothing  could  move  was  a  young 
peasant  in  his  employ,  who  watered  and  fed  horses, 
and  who  often  led  them  up  and  down  the  road  within 
his  plain  view. 

And  yet  knowing  what  he  did,  knowing  that  she 
would  not  marry  him,  he  had  no  thought  to  give  her 
up.  Hope  will  often  spring  anew  in  the  face  of  abso 
lute  knowledge  itself,  and  deep  in  his  heart  a  belief 
would  appear  now  and  then  that  he  might  yet  break 
her  to  his  wish.  He  knew  that  von  Arnheim,  Pap- 
penheim  and  Kratzek  knelt  at  the  same  shrine  and 
he  laughed  harshly  to  himself  because  he  was  sure 
that  they  knelt  in  vain.  They  were  young,  handsome, 
attractive,  men  of  the  world,  men  whom  any  girl 
might  love  but  she  did  not  love  any  of  them.  He 
knew  the  signals,  and  Julie  certainly  hung  out  none 
for  von  Arnheim,  nor  for  Kratzek  nor  for  Pappen- 
heim. 

He  ran  his  fingers  through  his  great  brown  forked 
beard,  just  such  a  beard  as  many  a  robber  baron  might 
have  worn,  and  thought  deeply  of  what  he  should  do 
with  her,  before  the  great  council  of  princes  and  gen- 

246 


THE  EFFICIENT  HOSTLER 

erals  assembled  in  his  castle.  She  must  not  be  there 
then.  Awkward  questions  might  be  asked,  but  if 
she  were  well  hidden  no  trouble  could  befall.  Von 
Arnheim  or  Kratzek  or  Pappenheim  might  speak, 
but  any  words  of  his  would  outweigh  all  of  theirs 
and  that  term  of  a  spy  was  wonderfully  convenient. 
But  he  wished  only  himself  to  know  where  Julie 
had  gone.  He  wanted  no  tattle  and  gossip  about  the 
castle  and  where  there  were  so  many  servants  and 
followers  it  could  not  be  prevented  unless  they  were 
kept  in  ignorance.  It  would  be  best  to  use  a  stranger, 
one  who  was  known  but  little  at  Zillenstein,  and  he 
recalled  such  a  man.  Second  thought  confirmed  first 
thought  and  his  decision  was  made. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE    HUNTING   LODGE 

JOHN  passed  a  troubled  night.  He  could  not 
yet  see  his  way  to  follow  Julie  and  Suzanne 
to  the  hunting  lodge  in  the  manner  he  wished, 
and  the  signs  were  multiplying  that  they  would  soon 
go.  He  had  no  doubt  that  the  arrival  of  von  Arn- 
heim  would  hasten  their  departure.  Auersperg  at 
such  a  time  could  not  tolerate  the  attitude  of  the 
young  prince  toward  Julie  and  he  would  avail  himself 
of  what  he  considered  his  feudal  rights  to  send  her 
somewhere  into  the  dark  at  the  quickest  possible 
moment. 

But  Providence  was  working  for  John.  His  courage 
and  skill  which  tempted  fate  were  winning  new  points 
in  his  great  battle.  Walther  told  him  a  little  after 
noon  that  he  was  to  take  him  into  the  presence  of 
the  august  Prince  Karl  himself.  In  some  manner 
he  had  fallen  under  the  favorable  eye  of  His  Highness 
who  was  about  to  assign  him  to  an  important  duty. 
It  was  an  honor  that  seldom  fell  to  one  so  young 
and  ignorant  and  he  hoped  that  he  would  conduct 
himself  in  a  manner  to  reflect  credit  upon  his  superior 
and  instructor,  Walther. 

John  gave  his   faithful  promise  but  he  wondered 
248 


THE  HUNTING  LODGE 

what  the  prince  could  want  with  him  personally  and 
he  did  not  look  forward  to  the  interview  with  con 
fidence.  Perhaps  his  identity  and  the  nature  of  his 
errand  had  been  discovered,  and  it  was  merely  an 
easy  method  of  making  him  walk  into  the  lion's 
jaws,  but  he  could  not  have  refused  nor  did  he  wish 
to  do  so.  His  curiosity  was  aroused  and  he  was 
willing  to  meet  Auersperg  face  to  face  and  talk  with 
him. 

Cap  in  hand  he  followed  Walther,  also  cap  in  hand, 
into  the  interior  of  the  castle.  Auersperg  sat  in  a 
great  room  overlooking  the  valley.  His  chair  stood 
on  a  slightly  raised  portion  of  the  floor,  and  he  was 
enthroned  like  a  sovereign.  John,  following  Walther's 
example,  bowed  low  before  him. 

"You  may  go,  Walther,"  said  Auersperg.  "I  wish 
to  speak  alone  with  this  young  man." 

The  master  of  the  stables  withdrew  reluctantly, 
consumed  by  curiosity,  and  the  young  peasant  in  his 
rough  brown  dress  stood  alone  before  the  prince.  One 
seemed  the  very  personification  of  power  and  pride, 
the  other  of  obscurity  and  insignificance,  and  yet  so 
strangely  does  fate  play  with  the  fortunes  of  men 
that  the  fickle  goddess  was  inclined  toward  the  peasant 
in  the  matter  that  was  nearest  to  the  hearts  of  both. 

John,  be  it  said  once  more,  had  not  the  smallest 
faith  in  the  supernatural,  but  it  often  seemed  to  him 
afterward  that  some  power  greater  than  that  of  man 
moved  the  prince  to  do  what  he  was  about  to  do. 

Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg  stroked  his  great  brown 
beard  and  looked  at  him  long  and  thoughtfully.  John 

249 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

stood  before  him  in  the  position  of  an  inferior,  even 
a  menial,  but  his  heart  was  far  from  holding  any 
feeling  of  inferiority.  He  was  awed  neither  by  the 
man's  rank  nor  his  power  nor  his  ancient  blood.  He 
knew  that  rank  could  not  stop  a  bullet,  nor  turn  aside 
a  shell.  He  knew  that  inherited  power  could  be  over 
thrown  by  power  acquired.  There  was  nothing  to 
make  either  sacred.  He  knew  that  old  blood  was 
usually  bad  blood,  that  in  a  thousand  years  it  became 
a  poisonous  stream,  for  the  want  of  fresh  springs  to 
purify  it.  But  the  head  of  the  young  peasant  was 
lowered  a  little,  and  the  last  representative  of  ten 
centuries  of  decadence  did  not  see  the  gleam  of  defi 
ance,  even  of  contempt  in  his  eyes. 

"You  have  not  been  at  Zillenstein  long,"  said  the 
prince. 

"But  a  week,  Your  Highness." 

"Walther  speaks  well  of  you.  The  Walthers  have 
served  the  Auerspergs  for  centuries  and  his  judgment 
and  loyalty  are  to  be  trusted." 

John's  heart,  stanch  republican  that  he  was,  rose 
in  rebellion  at  the  thought  that  one  family  should 
serve  another  for  a  thousand  years,  but  of  course  he 
was  silent. 

"Walther  tells  me  also,"  resumed  the  prince,  "that 
you  can  handle  an  automobile  with  skill  and  that  you 
understand  them." 

"Herr  Walther  is  very  kind  to  me,  Your  Highness." 

"It  was  you  also  who  rode  the  horse  of  Pappen- 
heim.  A  great  feat.  It  showed  ability  and  courage. 
For  these  reasons  I  am  selecting  you  to  do  a  deed 

250 


THE  HUNTING  LODGE 

of  trust,  one  of  great  importance  to  me.  I  am  in 
formed  by  Walther  that  you  are  from  Lorraine  and 
that  your  name  is  Castel." 

"Yes,  Your  Highness,  I'm  Jean  Castel  and  I  was 
born  near  Metz,  a  subject  of  His  Imperial  Highness, 
the  German  Emperor,  the  Winner  of  Victories." 

Auersperg  smiled  and  continued  to  stroke  his  great 
brown  beard.  The  young  peasant  pleased  him, 
Though  of  humble  station  and  ignorant  of  the  higher 
world  he  was  undoubtedly  keen  and  intelligent.  He 
was  just  the  man  for  his  task,  and  fortune  had  put 
this  useful  tool  in  his  hand. 

"Go  back  to  the  stables,  Castel,"  he  said,  "and 
make  ready  for  the  high  duty  to'  which  I  am  going 
to  assign  you.  You  are  to  ask  no  questions  and  to 
answer  none.  Walther  will  receive  instructions  to 
equip  you.  There  is  a  small  gate  in  the  rear  wall 
of  the  castle.  Be  there  at  nine  o'clock  tonight,  and 
you  will  then  know  the  work  that  you  have  to  do. 
Now  go  and  be  silent  and,  if  you  fail  to  be  at  the 
gate  at  the  appointed  time,  that  which  you  like  little 
may  happen  to  you." 

John  bowed  and  left  the  illustrious  presence.  He 
was  on  fire  with  eagerness  and  curiosity,  and  there 
was  apprehension  too.  Would  his  trust  take  him 
away  from  Julie  at  a  time  when  he  was  needed  most  ? 
It  must  not  be  so,  and  his  faith  was  strong  that  it 
would  not  be  so.  Yet  his  heart  was  beating  very 
hard  and  his  impatience  for  the  night  to  come  was 
great.  But  he  strove  his  utmost  to  preserve  at  least 
the  appearance  of  calmness.  He  saw  that  Walther 

251 


was  full  of  curiosity  and  now  and  then  asked  indirect 
questions,  but  John  remembering  his  instructions  gave 
no  answer. 

Once  he  passed  Use  and  Olga,  those  twin  spirits 
of  mischief  and  kindness,  and  they  stopped  him  to 
speak  of  the  great  company  that  was  coming. 

"They  say  it's  to  be  the  mightiest  array  of  princes 
and  generals  gathered  at  Zillenstein  in  a  hundred 
years,"  said  Use. 

"So  I  hear,"  said  John. 

"And  you  may  be  called  from  the  stable  to  serve 
in  the  castle.  The  man  who  rode  the  horse  of  Count 
Pappenheim  may  have  to  carry  a  plate  and  a  napkin." 

"One  can  but  do  his  best." 

"But  it  will  be  a  great  scene.  Perhaps  the  Kaiser 
himself  will  be  here,  or  the  old  Emperor." 

"Perhaps." 

"Aren't  you  eager  to  see  them?"  asked  Use,  piqued 
a  little  at  his  lack  of  curiosity. 

"Oh  yes,"  replied  John,  recalling  that  he  must  make 
believe,  "but  I've  seen  the  Kaiser  several  times  and 
once  at  Vienna  I  could  almost  have  reached  out  my 
hand  and  touched  the  old  Emperor,  as  he  rode  on 
his  way  to  Schonbrunn." 

He  passed  on  and  they  looked  after  him.  They 
liked  the  bearing  of  this  young  peasant  who  was  re 
spectful,  but  who  certainly  was  never  servile.  But 
it  was  in  John's  mind  that  however  brilliant  the  great 
council  might  be  he  would  not  see  it.  He  was  surely 
going  from  Zillenstein  but  it  was  for  the  future  to 
say  whether  his  absence  would  be  short  or  long. 

252 


THE  HUNTING  LODGE 

While  John  was  at  the  stables  young  Kratzek  sent 
for  his  horse,  and  John,  after  his  custom,  led  the 
animal  to  him.  He  had  long  since  ceased  to  fear 
discovery  by  the  Austrian,  and  his  immunity  made 
him  careless,  or  it  may  be  that  Kratzek's  eyes  were 
uncommonly  keen  that  day.  He  stood  beside  John, 
as  the  young  American  fixed  the  stirrup,  and  some 
motion  or  gesture  of  the  seeming  peasant  suddenly 
appeared  familiar  to  Kratzek. 

Before  John  had  realized  what  he  intended  Kratzek 
suddenly  seized  him  by  both  shoulders  and  turning 
him  around,  looked  straight  into  his  eyes. 

"Scott,  the  American,  and  a  spy!"  he  exclaimed. 

John's  heart  missed  several  beats.  He  knew  that 
it  was  useless  to  deny,  but  in  a  moment  or  two  he 
had  himself  under  full  control. 

"Yes,  it's  Scott,  and  I'm  in  disguise,  but  I'm  not  a 
spy,"  he  said. 

"The  penalty  anyhow  is  death." 

"But  you'll  not  betray  me!" 

"You  saved  my  life  at  the  great  peril  of  your  own." 

John  was  silent.  He  felt  that  the  time  had  come 
for  Kratzek  to  repay,  but  he  would  not  say  so.  Now 
his  own  look  was  straight  and  high,  and  it  was 
Kratzek's  that  wavered. 

"You  pledge  your  word  that  you  are  not  seeking 
to  pry  into  our  military  secrets?"  asked  the  Austrian 
at  length. 

"No  such  purpose  is  in  my  mind  at  all,  and  I  leave 
here  within  twenty-four  hours  as  ignorant  of  them 
as  I  was  when  I  came." 

253 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"Then,  sir,  I  do  not  know  you.  I  never  saw 
you  before,  and  I  believe  you  are  the  peasant,  you 
seem  to  be." 

Kratzek  gave  him  one  look  of  intense  curiosity, 
then  sprang  upon  his  horse,  and  rode  away,  never 
looking  back. 

"There  goes  a  true  man,"  thought  John,  as  he  re 
turned  to  the  stable. 

Toward  evening  Walther  gave  him  a  heavier  suit 
of  clothes  which  he  put  on,  a  great  overcoat  like  an 
ulster  falling  almost  to  his  ankles,  and  an  automo 
bile  cap  and  glasses.  John  could  see  that  he  longed 
to  ask  questions  but  he  did  not  do  so  and  John  too  was 
silent.  A  few  minutes  before  nine  o'clock  Walther 
told  him  to  go  to  the  small  gate  in  the  rear  wall. 

"Reach  it  without  being  seen  if  you  can,"  he  said. 
"But  if  you  are  seen  be  sure  to  answer  no  questions 
I  would  go  with  you  myself,  but  it's  forbidden.  You're 
to  be  absolutely  alone." 

John,  shrouded  in  the  overcoat  and  cap  and  glasses, 
made  his  way  in  the  dark  to  the  designated  gate. 

As  he  approached  the  place  he  saw  the  black  shadow 
of  a  heavy  bulk  against  the  dusk.  No  person  was 
yet  in  sight  and  there  was  utter  silence.  The  beat 
of  his  heart  was  so  hard  that  it  gave  him  actual 
physical  pain.  The  shadow  he  knew  was  that  of  a 
large  closed  automobile,  but  no  driver  was  in  the 
seat,  and  he  did  not  believe  that  anybody  was  inside. 
Both  the  silence  and  the  loneliness  became  sinister. 

John  slipped  forward  boldly.  It  required  no  divi 
nation  to  know  that  he  was  expected  to  drive  this 

254 


THE  HUNTING  LODGE 

machine.  The  gate  was  open  and  two  figures  hooded 
and  cloaked  came  forth.  But  hooded  and  cloaked  as 
they  were  John  knew  at  once  the  first  and  slenderer 
one.  The  step  disclosed  the  goddess.  Julie  and  Su 
zanne  were  going  somewhere  and  he  was  to  take 
them  and  there  was  the  prince  himself  coming  through 
the  open  gate  to  give  him  his  instructions. 

John's  first  emotion  was  one  of  extraordinary  won 
der,  qualified  in  a  moment  or  two  by  humor.  Suzanne 
opened  the  door  of  the  machine  and  Julie  stepped  in. 
Then  the  maid  followed  into  the  darkness  of  the  in 
terior  and  closed  the  door.  Truly  that  variable  god 
dess,  Fortune,  had  chosen  to  play  one  of  her  oddest 
tricks  and  for  the  time,  at  least,  she  had  chosen  him 
also  as  her  favorite.  But  with  a  presence  of  mind 
bred  in  the  terrible  school  of  war,  he  stood  waiting 
ready  to  receive  all  her  gifts  with  a  thankful  heart. 

"These  are  two  Frenchwomen,  prisoners,  whom 
I  hold,"  said  the  prince  in  a  whisper.  "There  are 
reasons  of  state  why  they  should  be  taken  from 
Zillenstein  and  be  hidden  at  my  hunting  lodge  in  the 
mountains.  Follow  the  road  that  you  see  there  in 
the  moonlight  leading  up  the  slope,  and  on  the  crest 
six  leagues  away  you  will  come  to  the  lodge.  You 
cannot  miss  it  because  no  other  building  is  there. 
It  lies  off  the  road  in  a  deep  pine  forest,  and  here 
is  a  letter  to  my  forester  Muller  who  lives  there. 
You  and  he  will  hold  the  women  at  the  lodge  until 
I  send  for  them,  and  let  them  speak  with  nobody, 
though  there  is  little  chance  of  such  a  thing  on  the 
mountain,  where  the  winter  has  not  yet  gone.  I 

255 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

hold  you  responsible  for  them.  Do  you  under 
stand?" 

"Yes,  Your  Highness,"  replied  John,  and  he  meant 
it. 

"And  here  is  a  purse  of  gold  for  you.  See  that 
you  serve  me  well  in  this  matter,  and  there  is  another 
purse  at  the  end  of  it.  Now  go  at  once!" 

John  touched  his  cap,  sprang  into  the  seat  and 
started  the  great  automobile  up  the  mountain  road. 
He  could  not  look  back,  but  he  knew  instinctively  that 
the  prince  had  gone  into  the  castle  as  silently  as  he 
had  come  from  it.  And  he  was  alone  at  the  wheel 
with  Julie  and  Suzanne  inside.  In  very  truth  chance 
or  fortune  had  moved  the  pawns  for  him  in  a  way 
that  the  most  skillful  player  could  not  have  equaled. 
For  a  moment,  the  whole  world  seemed  to  swim 
beneath  his  feet. 

The  night  was  dark  and  cold,  and  although  the 
road  up  the  slope  showed  for  a  long  distance  in 
the  moonshine  the  top  of  the  mountain  was  wrapped 
in  mist.  A  wind  began  to  blow  and  he  felt  raw  and 
damp  to  his  face.  But  there  was  nothing  to  check 
his  exultation.  Come  wind  or  rain  or  snow  they 
were  all  one  to  him.  He  was  away  from  Zillen- 
stein,  out  in  the  great  free  world  and  Julie  was  with 
him.  Auersperg  himself,  unknowing,  had  provided 
the  way  and  he  was  sending  them  not  only  in  com 
fort  but  in  luxury.  John  knew  the  big  automobile. 
It  was  the  prince's  own  and  it  was  surely  equipped 
in  a  princely  way.  The  man  who  had  brought  it  to 
the  gate  had  been  forced  to  go  away  and  he,  John 

256 


THE  HUNTING  LODGE 

Scott,  and  Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg  alone  knew  where 
they  were  going.  All  the  better!  He  laughed  under 
his  breath  as  he  handled  the  wheel  with  hands  now 
skilled  and  sent  the  great  automobile  along  the  smooth 
white  road  that  stretched  away  and  away  up  the  moun 
tain  side. 

At  a  curve  a  mile  or  more  distant,  he  could  look  down 
almost  directly  upon  Zillenstein.  The  vast  castle  was 
bathed  in  whitish  mists  floating  up  the  valley  in  which 
it  loomed  gigantic  and  enlarged,  a  menacing  creation 
that  had  survived  far  beyond  its  time.  He  shuddered 
at  the  thought  that  Julie  and  he  might  still  be  there, 
had  not  fortune  been  so  kind,  and  then,  pressing  the 
accelerator,  he  sent  the  machine  forward  a  little  faster. 

The  road  owing  to  the  steepness  of  the  ascent  now 
wound  a  great  deal,  but  it  was  smooth  and  safe,  and 
the  automobile,  despite  its  size,  had  an  organism  as 
delicate  as  that  of  a  watch.  It  obeyed  the  least 
pressure  of  his  hand,  and  his  exultation  became  all 
the  greater  when  he  fully  realized  that  he  had  such 
a  powerful  mechanism  at  hand,  subject  to  its  light 
est  touch.  The  thought,  in  truth,  had  come  to  him 
that  he  might  turn  back  into  the  valley,  and  seek 
escape  from  the  mountains.  But  consideration  showed 
that  the  idea  was  foolish.  So  large  a  machine  by  no 
possibility  could  escape  from  the  valley.  It  was  better 
to  go  on. 

The  cold  increased  sharply.  He  expected  a  fall  in 
the  mercury  owing  to  the  ascent,  but  it  was  greater 
than  the  height  alone  warranted.  All  the  signs  be 
tokened  foul  weather.  The  castle  was  now  wholly 

257 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

lost  in  great  masses  of  vapor  and  the  moon  was  with 
drawing  from  the  sky.  The  wind  had  an  edge  of 
ice.  He  knew  that  mountains  were  the  breeding  place 
of  storms  and  he  made  another  increase  of  speed  in 
order  that  they  might  reach  the  hunting  lodge  before 
one  broke. 

He  had  not  heard  a  sound  from  the  interior  of 
the  automobile  since  he  started.  They  were  sitting 
only  a  few  feet  away,  but  the  whistling  of  the  wind 
and  the  crunch  of  the  wheels  on  the  sanded  road 
would  have  drowned  out  all  slight  noises,  and  they 
did  not  speak,  nor  did  he  look  back. 

He  knew  that  they  could  see  only  a  broad  back  in 
front  of  them  and  the  muffling  coat  and  cap.  He 
longed  to  say  a  word  or  two,  but  he  deemed  it  wisest 
to  wait  yet  a  while.  His  full  attention  was  concen 
trated  upon  the  machine  and  the  road  and  it  was  all 
the  more  necessary  because  the  night  was  growing 
darker  and  the  wind  cut. 

But  his  confidence  was  so  high  that  he  handled  the 
automobile  through  all  the  dangers  with  a  firm  and 
sure  hand.  It  sped  on  and  on,  climbing  in  a  rapid 
series  of  circles  up  the  side  of  the  mountain.  Behind 
him  the  gulf  was  filled  with  vapors  and  before  him 
the  clouds  were  growing  darker  on  the  crest,  but  he 
could  yet  trace  the  road,  and  it  would  not  be  long 
now  until  they  reached  the  crest  and  the  pine  forest 
in  which  the  hunting  lodge  stood. 

He  wondered  what  kind  of  man  the  forester  Muller 
would  prove  to  be.  If  he  were  suspicious,  keenly 
alert,  he  might  prevent  their  ultimate  escape,  but  i£ 

258 


THE  HUNTING  LODGE 

he  were  merely  a  simple  hunter  John  might  make 
friends  with  him  and  use  him  for  his  purposes.  Then 
his  thoughts  came  quickly  back  to  Julie.  He  believed 
that  she  had  left  the  castle  without  resistance  of  any 
kind.  She  would  be  glad  to  escape  from  Zillenstein 
and  Auersperg,  no  matter  where  that  escape  might 
take  her. 

Another  half-hour  and  the  crest  was  but  a  hun 
dred  yards  or  so  away.  How  thankful  he  was  now 
that  he  had  put  on  extra  speed  despite  the  ascent  and 
had  driven  the  machine  hard,  because  the  road  would 
soon  be  blotted  from  sight!  Heavy  flakes  of  snow 
had  begun  to  fall  and  with  the  rising  wind  they  were 
coming  faster  and  faster. 

He  dimly  made  out  a  pine  wood  on  his  right,  and, 
then,  in  the  center  of  it  the  outline  of  a  low  building 
which  he  knew  must  be  the  hunting  lodge.  He  slowed 
down  the  machine,  took  the  last  little  curve,  and 
stopped  before  the  door  of  the  lodge.  But  in  that 
minute  the  snow  had  become  a  driving  white  storm. 

He  leaped  out,  knocked  hard  on  the  door  of  the 
lodge,  and,  no  answer  coming,  threw  himself  heavily 
against  it.  It  burst  open,  revealing  only  an  interior 
of  darkness,  but  he  turned  quickly  back  to  the  auto 
mobile,  threw  wide  its  door  and  beckoned  with  per 
emptory  command  to  the  two  dark  figures  sitting 
within. 

They  stepped  out,  Julie  first,  and  entered  the  lodge. 
John  followed  them,  and  there  they  stood,  staring  at 
one  another  until  their  eyes  might  grow  used  to  the 
dusk  and  they  could  see  their  faces.  It  was  evident 

259 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

that  Muller  was  not  anywhere  in  the  building,  or  he 
would  have  come  at  the  sound  of  the  machine. 

John  glanced  toward  a  window  set  deep  in  a  heavy 
timbered  wall  and  admitting  enough  light  to  disclose 
a  lantern  and  a  box  of  matches  on  a  shelf.  Still 
in  his  shrouding  coat,  cap  and  glasses  he  stepped  for 
ward,  struck  a  match  and  lighted  the  lantern.  Driven 
by  a  sudden  impulse,  he  swept  off  the  cap  and  glasses 
and  held  up  the  light. 

He  saw  Julie's  face  turn  deadly  pale.  Every  par 
ticle  of  color  was  gone  from  it  and  her  blue  eyes 
stared  at  him  as  if  he  were  one  newly  risen  from  the 
dead.  Then  the  color  flushed  back  in  a  rosy  tide  and 
such  a  tide  of  gladness  as  he  had  never  seen  before 
in  human  eyes  came  into  hers. 

"You!     You!     Is  it  really  you?"  she  cried. 

John  was  once  more  the  knightly  young  crusader. 
No  such  moment  had  ever  before  come  into  his  life. 
His  heart  was  full.  Triumph  and  joy  were  mingled 
there,  and  something  over  and  beyond  either.  In  that 
passing  flash  he  had  read  the  light  in  her  eyes,  a 
light  that  he  knew  was  only  for  him,  but  in  the 
instant  of  supreme  revelation  he  would  take  no  ad 
vantage.  The  manner  as  well  as  the  spirit  of  the 
young  crusader  was  upon  him. 

He  knelt  before  her  and  taking  one  of  her  gloved 
hands  in  his  kissed  it. 

"Yes,  dearest  Julie,"  he  said,  "by  some  singular 
fortune  or  chance,  or  rather,  I  should  call  it,  the  will 
of  God,  I  was  chosen  to  bring  you  here,  and  I  glory 
because  I  have  fulfilled  the  trust." 

260 


You!  You!     Is  it  really  you? '   she  cried 


THE  HUNTING  LODGE 

Suzanne,  tall  and  dark,  stood  looking  down  at  them. 
Her  grim  features  which  relaxed  so  rarely  relaxed 
now  and  her  eyes  were  soft.  The  young  stranger 
from  beyond  the  seas  had  proved  after  all  that  he 
was  a  man  among  men,  and  no  Frenchwoman  could 
resist  a  romance  so  strong  and  true  in  the  face  of  all 
that  war  could  do. 

John  felt  Julie's  hand  trembling  in  his,  but  she  did 
not  draw  it  away.  Her  lashes  were  lowered  a  little 
now,  but  her  gaze  still  rested  upon  him,  soft  yet  con 
fident  and  powerful.  He  had  believed  in  her  courage. 
He  had  believed  that  she  would  suffer  no  shock  when 
she  should  see  that  he  was  the  strange  man  who  had 
been  at  the  wheel,  and  his  confidence  was  justified. 

"And  it  was  you  who  brought  us  up  the  mountain  ?" 
she  said. 

"The  Prince  of  Auersperg  himself  chose  me  because 
I  was  a  stranger  and  he  did  not  wish  anyone  else 
in  the  castle  to  know  where  you  were  sent." 

He  released  her  hand  and  rose.  The  soft  but  strong 
gaze  was  still  upon  him,  as  if  she  were  yet  trying 
to  persuade  herself  that  it  was  reality. 

"I  felt  all  the  time  that  some  day  we  should  leave 
the  castle  together,"  she  said,  "but  I  did  not  dream 
that  it  was  you  who  sat  before  me  as  we  came  up 
the  mountain." 

"But  it  was,"  said  John,  joyfully.  "I  think  Whar- 
ton  himself  would  have  complimented  me  on  the  way 
I  drove  the  machine.  I  have  a  letter  in  my  pocket 
for  Muller,  the  prince's  forester  who  lives  here,  but 
it  seems  that  he  is  absent  on  other  duty." 

261 


"And  then,"  said  the  practical  Suzanne,  "it  becomes 
us  to  take  possession  of  the  house  at  once.  Look  forth, 
sir!  how  the  storm  beats!" 

Through  the  open  door  they  saw  the  snow  driven 
past  in  sheets  that  seemed  almost  solid.  John  handed 
the  lantern  to  Suzanne  and  said : 

"Wait  here  a  moment." 

"Where  are  you  going,  Mr.  Scott?"  exclaimed  Julie. 
"You  will  not  desert  us?" 

"Never!" 

He  was  out  of  the  door  in  a  couple  of  strides,  and 
then  he  sprang  into  the  automobile.  He  had  noticed 
a  small  garage  back  of  the  lodge  and  he  meant  to  save 
the  machine,  feeling  sure  that  they  would  have  need 
of  it  later.  In  a  few  minutes  it  was  safely  inside 
with  the  door  fastened  so  tightly  behind  him  that  no 
wind  could  blow  it  loose,  and  he  was  back  at  the 
lodge  with  the  wind  and  snow  driving  so  hard  that 
he  opened  the  door  but  little,  and,  slipping  in,  slammed 
it  shut.  Then  he  turned  the  heavy  key  in  the  lock, 
and  stared  in  surprise  and  pleasure  at  the  room. 

It  was  a  great  apartment,  the  heavy  log  walls 
adorned  with  the  horns  and  stuffed  heads  of  wild 
animals.  Several  bear  skins  and  other  rugs  lay  upon 
the  oaken  floor.  There  were  chairs  and  tables  with 
books  upon  them,  and,  at  one  end,  the  dry  wood  that 
filled  a  great  fireplace  was  crackling  and  flashing 
merrily.  The  practical  Suzanne,  noticing  the  heap, 
had  set  a  match  to  it  at  once,  and  already  the  room, 
great  as  it  was,  was  filled  with  warmth  and  light. 
Julie,  having  taken  off  her  heavy  furs,  was  sitting  in 

262 


THE  HUNTING  LODGE 

a  chair  before  the  fire,  the  leaping  flames  deepening 
the  light  in  her  eyes  and  the  new  rose  in  her  cheeks. 

John's  heart  swelled  with  thankfulness  and  joy. 
He  had  not  dreamed  that  so  much  could  be  achieved. 
A  day  before  he  would  have  said  that  it  was  im 
possible.  As  the  whistling  of  the  wind  rose  to  a 
fierce  roar  and  the  snow  drove  by,  he  realized,  with  a 
shudder  at  the  danger  escaped  so  narrowly,  that  they 
had  arrived  just  in  time.  The  automobile  itself  would 
have  been  driven  from  the  path  by  the  fierce  Alpine 
storm  now  raging. 

The  stern  but  gifted  Suzanne  had  found  lamps  and 
had  lighted  them,  and  like  a  capable  soldier  she  was 
already  looking  over  her  field  of  battle. 

"Not  so  bad,"  she  said.  "His  Highness,  Prince 
Karl  of  Auersperg,  builds  a  little  palace  and  calls  it 
his  hunting  lodge.  But  his  heart  would  turn  black 
within  him  if  he  knew  who  was  one  of  the  guests  in 
it  today." 

John  smiled,  and  meeting  Julie's  eyes,  he  smiled 
again.  He  saw  a  flame  there  to  which  his  own  soul 
responded,  and  he  tingled  from  head  to  foot.  The 
omens  had  not  been  in  vain.  The  blessings  of  the 
righteous  had  availed.  Again  it  may  be  said  that 
he  had  no  faith  in  the  supernatural,  at  least  here  on 
earth,  but  all  things  must  have  worked  for  him  in 
a  world  that  seemed  wholly  against  him.  He  believed 
that  he  read  such  a  thought  too  in  the  glowing  dark 
blue  of  her  own  eyes. 

"You  are  wonderfully  right,  Suzanne,"  said  John. 
"Probably  the  Prince  of  Auersperg  had  the  lodge 

263 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

especially  prepared  for  the  coming  of  Mademoiselle 
Julie.  Perhaps  there  is  a  telephone." 

"Truly  there  is,  Mr.  Scott,"  said  Suzanne.  "Here 
it  is,  in  the  corner." 

"Then,"  said  John,  "it's  very  likely  that  we'll 
hear  very  soon  from  Zillenstein,  and  since  he  has 
kept  your  journey  secret  it  is  sure  to  be  Prince  Karl 
himself  who  will  call  you  up.  I  must  be  the  one  to 
answer.  Now  will  you  sit  here  by  the  fire,  Miss  Julie, 
and  rest  while  your  most  capable  Suzanne  and  I  look 
further  into  our  new  residence.  There  is  no  possibility 
of  any  caller,  save  the  worthy  Muller,  to  whom  I  bear 
a  letter  from  the  prince,  in  which  I  have  no  doubt  I 
am  highly  recommended." 

"Very  well,  Mr.  John,  I  obey  you,"  said  Julie,  sit 
ting  down  again  in  a  large  armchair  before  the  flames, 
where  the  ruddy  light  once  more  deepened  the  gold 
of  her  hair  and  the  rose  of  her  cheeks.  "It  seems 
that  you  intend  to  be  master  here." 

"I'm  master  already.  My  rule  has  become  supreme, 
nor  am  I  any  usurper.  Do  I  not  hold  a  commission 
from  Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg,  the  owner  of  this 
lodge,  and  did  he  not  intrust  you  to  my  care  ?  I  mean 
to  do  my  duty.  And  now  come,  Suzanne,  you  and  I 
will  see  what  this  wilderness  castle  of  ours  contains." 

The  hunting  lodge  was  worthy  of  a  prince.  It  was 
built  of  massive  logs,  but  the  interior  was  improved 
and  finished  in  modern  style.  There  were  no  electric 
lights,  but  it  contained  almost  every  other  luxury  or 
convenience.  Besides  the  great  room  in  which  Julie 
was  now  sitting,  they  found  on  the  ground  floor  a 

264 


THE  HUNTING  LODGE 

writing-room  well  supplied,  a  small  parlor,  a  gun 
room  amply  equipped  with  a  variety  of  arms  and 
ammunition,  a  dining-room  containing  much  princely 
silver,  a  butler's  pantry,  a  kitchen  and  a  storeroom 
holding  food  enough  to  last  them  a  year.  Above 
stairs  were  six  bedrooms,  any  one  of  which  the  capable 
Suzanne  could  put  in  order  in  half  an  hour.  All  the 
house  had  running  water  drawn  from  some  reservoir 
in  the  mountains. 

John  had  seen  such  luxurious  camps  as  this  in  the 
Adirondacks  in  his  own  country,  and  there  were  many 
others  scattered  about  the  mountains  of  Europe,  but 
he  was  very  grateful  now  to  find  such  a  refuge  for 
Julie.  Again  he  realized  how  fortunate  they  had  been 
to  arrive  so  early.  As  he  looked  from  an  upper  win 
dow  he  saw  that  the  storm  was  driving  with  tre 
mendous  fury.  Even  behind  the  huge  logs  he  heard 
the  wind  roaring  and  thundering,  and  now  and  then, 
through  the  thick  glass  of  the  windows,  he  caught 
a  glimpse  of  a  young  pine  torn  up  by  its  roots  and 
whirled  past. 

Where  was  Muller,  the  forester,  who  had  charge  of 
the  lodge  and  who  lived  there,  and  what  kind  of  a  man 
was  he?  It  was  the  only  question  that  was  troubling 
him  now.  If  he  did  not  come  soon  he  could  not  come 
that  night,  nor  perhaps  the  next  day.  The  snowfall 
was  immense,  with  every  sign  of  heavy  continuance, 
and  by  morning  it  certainly  would  lie  many  feet 
deep  on  the  mountain.  Traveling  would  be  impossible. 

He  heard  the  distant  sound  of  a  bell,  and  knowing 
that  the  telephone  was  calling,  he  ran  down  the  stair- 

265 


way  to  the  great  room.  Julie  had  risen  and  was  look 
ing  at  the  instrument  with  dilated  eyes,  as  if  it  sounded 
a  note  of  alarm,  as  if  their  happy  escape  was  threat 
ened  by  a  new  danger.  John  believed  that  she  had 
fallen  asleep  before  the  heat  of  the  fire,  and  that 
the  ring  of  the  telephone  had  struck  upon  her  dream 
ing  ear  like  a  shell. 

"It's  he!  It's  the  terrible  prince  himself!"  she  ex 
claimed,  her  faculties  not  yet  fully  released  from  cloudy 
sleep. 

"Very  likely,"  said  John,  "but  have  no  fear.  Zillen- 
stein  is  only  six  leagues  away  at  ordinary  times,  but 
it's  six  hundred  tonight,  with  the  greatest  storm  that 
I've  ever  seen  sweeping  in  between  us." 

He  took  down  the  receiver  and  put  it  to  his  ear. 

"Who  is  there  ?"  asked  a  deep  voice,  which  he  knew 
to  be  that  of  Prince  Karl. 

"Castel,  Your  Highness." 

"You  arrived  without  accident?" 

"Wholly  without  accident,  Your  Highness.  We 
reached  the  lodge  a  few  minutes  before  the  storm 
broke." 

"The  lady,  Mademoiselle  Lannes,  is  safe  and  com 
fortable?"  " 

"Entirely  so,  Your  Highness.  The  maid,  Suzanne, 
is  preparing  her  room  for  her." 

"You  found  Muller  there  waiting  for  you  accord 
ing  to  instructions?" 

Some  prudential  motive  prompted  John  to  reply: 

"Yes,  Your  Highness,  he  had  everything  ready  and 
was  waiting.  I  presented  your  letter  at  once." 

266 


THE  HUNTING  LODGE 

"You  have  done  well,  Castel.  Keep  the  lady  within 
the  house,  but  the  storm  will  do  that  anyhow.  Do 
not  under  any  circumstances  call  me  up,  but  I  will 
call  you  again  when  I  think  fit.  Bear  in  mind  that 
the  reward  of  both  you  and  Muller  shall  be  large, 
if  you  serve  me  well  in  this  most  important  matter." 

"Yes,  Your  Highness.    I  thank  you  now." 

"Keep  it  in  mind,  always." 

"Yes,  Your  Highness." 

His  Highness,  Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg,  replaced 
the  telephone  stand  upon  the  table  in  his  bedroom 
at  Zillenstein,  and  John  Scott  hung  up  the  receiver 
in  the  hunting  lodge  on  the  mountain. 

"It  was  Prince  Karl,"  he  said  to  Julie,  who  still 
stood  motionless  looking  at  him.  "He  wanted  to 
know  if  you  were  safe  and  comfortable  and  I  said 
yes.  He  said  he  would  call  us  up  again  but  he 
won't." 

He  lifted  a  chair  and  shattered  the  telephone  to 
fragments. 

"It  might  afford  a  peculiar  pleasure  to  talk  with 
him,"  he  said,  "but  it's  best  that  we  have  no  further 
communication  while  we're  here.  An  incautious 
word  or  two  might  arouse  suspicion  and  that's  what 
we  want  most  to  avoid.  When  he  fails  to  get  an 
answer  to  his  call  he'll  think  that  this  huge  snow  has 
broken  down  the  wire.  Most  likely  it  will  do  so  any 
how.  And  now,  Miss  Julie,  Suzanne  has  your  room 
ready  for  you.  If  you  wish  to  withdraw  to  it  for 
a  little  while  you'll  find  dinner  waiting  you  when  you 
return." 

267 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"And  the  day  of  the  abandoned  hotel  in  Chastel  has 
come  back?" 

"But  a  better  and  a  longer  day.  We're  prisoners 
here  together  on  the  mountain,  you  and  I,  and  your 
chaperon,  servant  and  sometime  ruler,  Suzanne  Picard, 
who  I  find  is  not  as  grim  as  she  looks." 

There  was  a  spark  in  his  eyes  as  he  looked  at  her, 
and  an  answering  fire  leaped  up  in  her  own.  He  was 
in  very  truth  a  perfect  and  gentle  knight,  who  would 
gladly  come  so  far  and  through  so  many  dangers 
for  her  and  for  her  alone.  He  was  her  very  own 
champion,  and  as  her  dark  blue  eyes  looked  into  the 
gray  deeps  of  his  her  soul  thrilled  with  the  knowledge 
of  it.  Deep  red  flushed  her  from  brow  to  chin,  and 
then  slowly  ebbed  away. 

"John,"  she  said,  putting  her  hand  in  his,  "no  woman 
has  ever  owed  more  gratitude  to  a  man." 

"And  I  am  finding  repayment  now  for  what  I  was 
happy  to  do,"  he  said,  kissing  her  hand  again  in  that 
far-off  knightly  fashion. 

Again  the  red  tide  in  her  cheeks  and  then  she 
swiftly  left  the  room,  but  John  threw  himself  in  a 
chair  before  the  great  fire  and  gazed  into  the  coals. 
Wide  awake,  he  was  dreaming.  He  knew  they  would 
be  days  in  the  lodge.  The  storm  was  so  great  that  no 
one  could  come  from  Zillenstein  in  a  week.  Provi 
dence  or  fortune  had  been  so  kind  that  he  began  to 
fear  enough  had  been  done  for  them.  Such  good 
luck  could  not  go  on  forever,  and  there,  too,  was 
the  man  Muller  who  might  make  trouble  when  he 
came. 

268 


THE  HUNTING  LODGE 

Nevertheless  his  feeling  was  but  momentary.  The 
extraordinary  lightness  of  heart  returned.  The  storm 
roared  without  and  at  times  it  volleyed  down  the  chim 
ney,  making  the  flames  leap  and  dance,  but  the  sense 
of  security  and  safety  was  strong  within  him.  The 
war  passed  by,  forgotten  for  the  time.  History,  it 
was  true,  repeated  itself,  and  this  was  the  abandoned 
hotel  at  Chastel  over  again,  but  they  were  in  a  far 
better  position  now.  No  one  could  come  against  them, 
unless  the  man  Muller  should  prove  to  be  a  foe.  And 
he  resolved,  too,  gazing  into  the  flames,  that  they 
should  not  steal  Julie  from  him  here,  as  they  had 
taken  her  at  Chastel. 

Darkness,  save  for  the  gleam  of  the  snow,  came 
over  the  mountain,  but  the  flakes  were  driving  so  thick 
and  fast  that  they  formed  a  white  blanket  before 
the  window,  as  impervious  as  black  night  itself.  It 
reminded  him  of  a  great  storm  he  had  seen  once  on 
his  uncle's  ranch  on  the  high  table  land  of  Montana, 
but  to  him  it  came  that  night  as  a  friend  and  not  as 
an  enemy,  cutting  them  off  from  Zillenstein  and  all 
the  dangers  it  held. 

He  lighted  candles  and  lamps  in  the  great  room 
and  all  the  smaller  rooms  clustering  about  it.  He 
would  have  everything  cheerful  for  Julie  when  she 
returned. 

He  had  seen  Suzanne  take  several  heavy  packages 
from  the  automobile  and  he  had  no  doubt  that  they 
had  come  amply  provided  with  clothing,  that  for  Julie,, 
belonging  doubtless  to  a  young  cousin  or  niece  of  the 
prince  who  stayed  sometimes  at  Zillenstein. 

269 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

As  for  himself,  if  they  remained  long  he  must  depend 
upon  the  spare  raiment  of  the  forester,  and,  remem 
bering  suddenly  that  he  might  effect  his  own  improve 
ment,  he  hunted  for  Muller's  room  and  discovered 
it  on  the  second  floor.  Here  he  found  shaving  ma 
terials,  and  rapidly  cleared  his  face  of  the  young  beard 
that  he  despised.  Muller's  clothing  was  scattered 
about,  and  he  judged  from  it  that  the  forester  was  a 
man  of  about  his  own  size.  After  some  hesitation,  he 
took  off  his  own  coat  and  put  on  a  brilliant  Tyrolean 
jacket  which  he  surmised  the  owner  reserved  for 
occasions  of  state. 

"If  you  come,  Mr.  Muller,  I'll  try  to  explain  to 
you  why  I  do  this,"  said  John  aloud.  "I  know  you'll 
forgive  me  when  I  tell  you  it's  in  honor  of  a  lady." 

Then  he  laughed  at  himself  in  a  glass.  It  was  a 
gorgeous  jacket,  but  one  could  wear  more  brilliant 
clothes  in  Europe  than  in  America,  and  his  appearance 
was  certainly  improved.  He  returned  to  the  great 
room  and  someone  sitting  in  the  chair  before  the  fire 
rose  to  receive  him. 

It  was  Julie  all  in  white,  a  semi-evening  dress  that 
heightened  in  a  wonderful  fashion  her  glorious,  blond 
beauty.  He  had  often  thought  how  this  slender  maid 
would  bloom  into  a  woman  and  now  he  beheld  her 
here  in  the  lodge,  his  prisoner  and  not  Auersperg's. 
A  swift  smile  passed  over  her  face  as  she  saw  him, 
and  bowing  low  before  him  she  said : 

"I  see,  Mr.  John,  that  you  have  not  wasted  your 
time.  You  come  arrayed  in  purple  and  gold." 

"But  it's  borrowed  plumage,  Miss  Julie." 
270 


THE  HUNTING  LODGE 

"And  so  is  mine." 

"It  can't  be.    I'm  sure  it  was  made  for  you." 

"The  real  owner  wouldn't  say  so." 

"You  will  forgive  me  if  I  tell  you  something,  won't 
you?" 

"It  depends  upon  what  it  is." 

The  red  in  her  cheeks  deepened  a  little.  The  gray 
eyes  of  John  were  speaking  in  very  plain  language  to 
Julie. 

"I  must  say  it,  stern  necessity  compels,  if  I  don't 
I'll  be  very  unhappy." 

"I  wouldn't  have  you  miserable." 

"I  want  to  tell  you,  Julie,  that  you  are  overwhelm 
ingly  beautiful  tonight." 

"I've  always  heard  that  Americans  were  very  bold, 
it's  true." 

"But  remember  the  provocation,  Julie." 

"Ah,  sir,  I  have  no  protection  and  you  take  advan 
tage  of  it." 

"There's  Suzanne." 

"But  she's  in  the  kitchen." 

"Where  I  hope  she'll  stay  until  she's  wanted." 

She  was  silent  and  the  red  in  her  cheeks  deepened 
again.  But  the  blue  eyes  and  the  gray  yet  talked 
together. 

"I  worship  you,  your  beauty  and  your  great  soul, 
but  your  great  soul  most  of  all,"  said  the  gray. 

"Any  woman  would  be  proud  to  have  a  lover  who 
has  followed  her  through  so  many  and  such  great 
dangers,  and  who  has  rescued  her  at  last.  She  could 
not  keep  from  loving  him,"  said  the  blue. 

271 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

Suzanne  appeared  that  moment  in  the  doorway  and 
stood  there  unnoticed.  She  looked  at  them  grimly 
and  then  came  the  rare  smile  that  gave  her  face  that 
wonderful  softness. 

"Come,  Mademoiselle  Julie  and  Mr.  John,"  she 
said.  "Dinner  is  ready  and  I  tell  you  now  that  I've 
never  prepared  a  better  one.  This  prince  has  a  taste  in 
food  and  wine  that  I  did  not  think  to  find  in  any 
German." 

"And  all  that  was  his  is  ours  now,"  said  John. 
"Fortune  of  war." 

Suzanne's  promise  was  true  to  the  last  detail.  The 
dinner  was  superb  and  they  had  an  Austrian  white 
wine  that  never  finds  its  way  into  the  channels  of 
commerce. 

"To  you,  Julie,  and  our  happy  return  to  Paris," 
said  John,  looking  over  the  edge  of  his  glass.  Suzanne 
was  in  the  kitchen  then  and  he  dared  to  drop  the 
"Mademoiselle." 

"To  you,  John,"  she  said,  as  she  touched  the  wine 
to  her  lips — she  too  dared  to  drop  the  "Mr." 

And  then  gray  depths  looked  into  blue  depths  and 
blue  into  gray,  speaking  a  language  that  each  under 
stood. 

"We're  the  chosen  of  fortune,"  said  John.  "The 
hotel  at  Chastel  presented  itself  to  us  when  we  needed 
it  most,  and  again  when  we  need  it  most  this  lodge 
gives  us  all  hospitality." 

"Fortune  has  been  truly  kind,"  said  Julie. 

After  dinner  they  went  back  to  the  great  room 
where  the  fire  still  blazed  and  Suzanne,  when  she  had 

272 


THE  HUNTING  LODGE 

cleared  everything  away,  joined  them.  She  quietly 
took  a  chair  next  to  the  wall  and  went  to  work  on 
some  sewing  that  she  had  found  in  the  lodge.  But 
John  saw  that  she  had  installed  herself  as  a  sort  of 
guardian  of  them  both,  and  she  meant  to  watch  over 
them  as  her  children.  Yet  however  often  she  might 
appear  to  him  in  her  old  grim  guise  he  would  always 
be  able  to  see  beneath  it. 

Now  they  talked  but  little.  John  saw  after  a  while 
that  Julie  was  growing  sleepy,  and  truly  a  slender  girl 
who  had  been  through  so  much  in  one  day  had  a 
right  to  rest.  He  caught  Suzanne's  eye  and  nodded. 
Rising,  the  Frenchwoman  said  in  the  tone  of  com 
mand  which  perhaps  she  had  often  used  to  Julie  as  a 
child: 

"It's  time  we  were  off  to  bed,  Mademoiselle.  The 
storm  will  make  us  both  sleep  all  the  better." 

"Good  night,  Mr.  John,"  said  Julie. 

"Good  night,  Miss  Julie." 

Once  more  the  stern  face  of  Suzanne  softened  under 
a  smile,  but  she  and  her  charge  marched  briskly  away, 
and  left  John  alone  before  the  fire.  He  had  decided 
that  he  would  not  sleep  upstairs,  but  would  occupy 
the  gunroom  from  which  a  window  looked  out  upon 
the  front  of  the  house.  There  he  made  himself  a 
bed  with  blankets  and  pillows  that  he  brought  from 
above  and  lay  down  amid  arms. 

The  gunroom  was  certainly  well  stocked.  It  held 
repeating  rifles  and  fowling-pieces,  large  and  small, 
and  revolvers.  One  big  breech-loader  had  the  weight 
of  an  elephant  rifle,  and  there  were  also  swords,  bayo- 

273 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

nets  and  weapons  of  ancient  type.  But  John  looked 
longest  at  the  big  rifle.  He  felt  that  if  need  be  he 
could  hold  the  lodge  against  almost  anything  except 
cannon. 

"It's  the  first  time  I  ever  had  a  whole  armory  to 
myself,"  he  said,  looking  around  proudly  at  the  noble 
array. 

But  he  was  quite  sure  that  no  one  could  come  for 
days  except  Muller,  and  the  mystery  of  the  forester's 
absence  again  troubled  him,  although  not  very  long. 
Another  look  at  the  driving  snow,  and,  wrapping  him 
self  in  his  blankets,  he  fell  asleep  to  the  music  of  the 
storm.  John  awoke  once  far  in  the  night,  and  his 
sense  of  comfort,  as  he  lay  between  the  blankets  on 
the  sofa  that  he  had  dragged  into  the  gunroom,  was 
so  great  that  he  merely  luxuriated  there  for  a  little 
while  and  listened  to  the  roar  of  the  storm,  which 
he  could  yet  hear,  despite  the  thickness  of  the  walls. 
But  he  rose  at  last,  and  went  to  the  window. 

The  thick  snowy  blast  was  still  driving  past,  and 
his  eyes  could  not  penetrate  it  more  than  a  dozen 
feet.  But  he  rejoiced.  Their  castle  was  growing 
stronger  and  stronger  all  the  time  as  nature  steadily 
built  her  fortifications  higher  and  higher  around  it. 
Muller  himself,  carrying  out  his  duties  of  huntsman, 
might  have  gone  to  some  isolated  point  in  the  moun 
tains,  and  would  not  be  able  to  return  for  days.  He 
wished  no  harm  to  Muller,  but  he  hoped  the  possi 
bility  would  become  a  fact. 

He  went  back  to  his  blanket  and  when  he  awoke 
in  the  morning  the  great  Alpine  storm  was  still  rag- 

274 


THE  HUNTING  LODGE 

ing.  But  he  bathed  and  refreshed  himself  and  found 
a  store  of  clothing  better  than  that  of  the  forester. 
It  did  not  fit  him  very  well,  nevertheless  he  was 
neatly  arrayed  in  civilian  attire  and  he  went  to  the 
kitchen,  meaning  to  put  himself  to  use  and  cook  the 
breakfast.  But  Suzanne  was  already  there,  and  she 
saluted  him  with  stern  and  rebuking  words. 

"I  reign  here,"  she  said.  "Go  back  and  talk  to 
Mademoiselle  Julie.  Since  we're  alone  and  are  likely 
to  be  so,  for  God  knows  how  long,  it's  your  duty  to  see 
that  she  keeps  up  her  spirits.  I'd  have  kept  you  two 
apart  if  I  could,  but  it  has  been  willed  otherwise,  and 
maybe  it's  for  the  best." 

"What  has  happened  shows  it's  for  the  best,  Su 
zanne.  And,  as  you  know,  you've  never  had  any 
real  objection  to  me  except  that  I'm  not  a  Frenchman. 
And  am  I  not  becoming  such  as  fast  as  possible?" 

"You  don't  look  very  much  like  one,  but  you  act 
like  one  and  often  you  talk  like  one." 

"Thanks,  Suzanne.  That's  praise  coming  from 
you." 

"Now  be  off  with  you.  My  mistress  is  surely  in 
the  great  room,  and  if  you  care  for  her  as  much  as 
you  pretend,  you  will  see  that  she  is  not  lonely,  and 
don't  talk  nonsense,  either." 

John,  chuckling,  withdrew.  As  Suzanne  had  pre 
dicted  he  found  Julie  in  the  large  room,  and  she  was 
quite  composed,  when  she  bade  him  good  morning. 

"I  see  that  the  storm  goes  on,"  she  said. 

"So  much  the  better.  It  is  raising  higher  the  wall 
between  us  and  our  enemies.  Our  fire  has  burned  out 

275 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

in  the  night,  leaving  only  coals,  but  there  is  a  huge 
store  of  wood  in  the  back  part  of  the  lodge." 

He  brought  in  an  armful  of  billets  to  find  her  fan 
ning  the  coals  into  a  blaze. 

"You  didn't  think,  sir,"  said  she,  "did  you,  that  I 
mean  to  be  a  guest  here,  waited  upon  by  you  and 
Suzanne  ?" 

"But  Suzanne  and  I  are  strong  and  willing!  Don't 
lean  too  near  that  blaze,  Julie!  You'll  set  your 
beautiful  hair  on  fire!" 

"And  so  you  think  my  hair  beautiful?" 

"Very  beautiful." 

"It's  not  proper  for  you  to  say  so.  We're  not  in 
America." 

"Nor  are  we  in  France,  where  young  girls  are  sur 
rounded  by  triple  rows  of  brass  or  steel.  We're  in 
a  snowstorm  on  top  of  a  high  mountain  in  Austria. 
There  are  no  conventions,  and  Suzanne,  your  guardian, 
is  in  the  kitchen." 

"But  I  can  call  her  and  she'll  come." 

"She'd  come,  I  know,  but  you  won't  call  her.  There, 
our  fire  is  blazing  beautifully,  and  we  don't  have  to 
nurse  it  any  longer.  You  sit  here  in  this  chair,  and 
I'll  sit  there  in  that  chair  at  a  respectful  distance. 
Now  you  realize  that  we  are  going  to  be  here  a  long 
time,  don't  you  Julie?" 

"Miss  Julie  or  Mademoiselle  Julie  would  be  better 
and  perhaps  Mademoiselle  Lannes  would  be  most  fit 
ting." 

"No,  I've  said  Julie  several  times  and  as  it  always 
gives  me  a  pleasant  thrill  I'm  sure  it's  best.  I  intend 

276 


THE  HUNTING  LODGE 

to  use  it  continually  hereafter,  except  when  Suzanne 
is  present." 

"You're  taking  a  high  stand,  Mr.  John." 

"John  is  best  also." 

"Well,  then— John!" 

"I'm  taking  it  for  your  good  and  my  pleasure." 

"I  wonder  if  Suzanne  is  ready  with  the  breakfast!" 

"You  needn't  go  to  see.  You  know  it's  not,  and 
you  know,  too,  that  Suzanne  will  call  us  when  it  is 
ready.  A  wonderfully  capable  woman,  that  Suzanne. 
She  didn't  look  upon  me  with  favor  at  first,  but  I 
believe  she  is  really  beginning  to  like  me,  to  view  me 
perhaps  with  approval  as  a  sort  of  candidate." 

"Look  how  the  snow  is  coming  down!" 

"But  that's  an  old  story.  Let's  go  back  to  Su 
zanne." 

"Oh  no.     She's  coming  for  us." 

It  was  true.  The  incomparable  Suzanne  stood  in 
the  doorway  and  summoned  them  to  breakfast. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE   DANGEROUS    FLIGHT 

IT  snowed  all  that   day   and  all  the  next   night. 
The  lateness  of  the  season  seemed  to  add  to 
the  violence  of  the  storm,  as  if  it  would  make 
one  supreme  effort  on  these  heights  before  yielding 
to  the  coming  spring.    Many  of  the  pines  were  blown 
down,  and  the  snow  lay  several  feet  deep  everywhere. 
Now  and  then  they  heard  thunderous  sounds  from  the 
gorges  telling  them  that  great  slides  were  taking  place, 
and  it  was  absolutely  certain  now  that  no  one  from 
the  valley  below  could  reach  the  lodge  for  days. 

The  sight  from  the  windows  of  the  house,  when 
the  driving  snow  thinned  enough  to  permit  a  view, 
was  magnificent.  They  saw  far  away  peak  on  peak 
and  ridge  on  ridge,  clothed  in  white,  and  sometimes 
they  beheld  the  valley  filled  with  vast  clouds  of  mists 
and  vapors.  Once  John  thought  he  caught  a  glimpse 
of  Zillenstein,  a  menacing  gray  shadow  far  below, 
but  the  clouds  in  an  instant  floated  between  and  he 
was  not  sure. 

Yet  it  was  a  period  of  enchantment  in  the  life  of 
John  Scott.  Their  very  isolation  on  the  mountain, 
with  Suzanne  there  in  the  double  role  of  servant  and 
guardian,  seemed  to  draw  Julie  and  him  more  closely 

278 


THE  DANGEROUS  FLIGHT 

together.  The  world  had  practically  melted  away  be 
neath  their  feet.  The  great  war  was  gone  for  them. 
He  was  only  twenty-two,  but  his  experience  had  made 
him  mentally  much  older,  and  she,  too,  had  gained  in 
knowledge  and  command  of  herself  by  all  through 
which  she  had  passed. 

She  showed  to  John  a  spirit  and  courage  which  he 
had  never  seen  surpassed  in  any  woman,  and  mingled 
with  it  all  was  a  lightness  and  wit  that  filled  the  whole 
house  with  sunshine,  despite  the  great  storm  that  raged 
continually  without.  In  the  music-room  was  a  piano, 
and  she  played  upon  it  the  beautiful  French  "little 
songs"  that  John  loved.  There  were  books  and  maga 
zines  in  plenty,  and  now  he  read  to  her  and  then  she 
read  to  him.  Sometimes  they  sat  in  silence  and  through 
the  thick  glass  of  the  windows  watched  the  snow  driv 
ing  by. 

The  hours  were  too  few  for  John.  He  served  her 
as  the  crusader  served  his  chosen  lady.  The  spirit 
of  the  old  knights  of  chivalry  that  had  descended  upon 
him  still  held  him  in  a  spell  that  he  did  not  wish  to 
break.  Often  she  mocked  at  him  and  laughed  at  him, 
and  then  he  liked  her  all  the  better.  No  placid,  sub 
missive  woman,  shrinking  before  the  dangers,  would 
have  pleased  him.  In  her  light  laughter  and  her 
banter,  even  at  his  expense,  he  read  a  noble  courage 
and  a  lofty  soul,  and  in  their  singular  isolation  it  was 
given  to  him  to  see  her  spirit,  so  strong  and  yet  so 
rarely  sweet  in  a  manner  that  the  circumstances  of 
ordinary  life  could  never  have  brought  forth.  And 
the  faithful  Suzanne,  still  in  her  double  role  of 

279 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

servant  and  guardian,  served  and  guarded  them  both. 

John  at  this  time  began  to  feel  a  more  forgiving 
spirit  toward  Auersperg.  It  might  well  be  that  this 
man  of  middle  years,  so  thoroughly  surrounded  by 
old,  dead  things  that  he  had  never  seen  the  world  as  it 
really  was,  had  been  bewitched.  A  sort  of  moon 
madness  had  made  him  commit  his  extraordinary 
deed,  and  John  could  view  it  with  increasing  toler 
ance  because  he  had  been  bewitched  himself. 

He  made  another  and  more  extended  survey  of  their 
stores  and  confirmed  his  first  opinion  that  the  lodge 
was  furnished  in  full  princely  style.  They  need  not 
lack  for  any  of  the  comforts,  nor  for  many  luxuries, 
no  matter  how  long  they  remained. 

On  the  morning  of  the  third  day  the  storm  ceased 
and  they  looked  out  upon  a  white,  shining  world  of 
snow,  lofty  and  impressive,  peaks  and  ridges  out 
lined  sharply  against  a  steel-blue  sky.  John  had  found 
a  pair  of  powerful  glasses  in  the  lodge  and  with  them 
he  was  now  able  to  make  out  Zillenstein  quite  clearly. 
Clothed  in  snow,  a  castle  all  in  white,  it  was  never 
theless  more  menacing  than  ever. 

John  believed  that  Muller  would  surely  come,  and 
many  and  many  a  time  he  thought  over  the  problem 
how  to  deal  with  him.  But  the  new,  windless  day 
passed  and  there  was  no  sign  of  the  forester.  John 
himself  went  forth,  breaking  paths  here  and  there 
through  the  snow,  but  he  discovered  nothing.  He 
began  to  believe  that  Muller  had  been  forced  to  take 
shelter  at  the  start  of  the  storm  and  could  not  now 
return.  His  hope  that  it  was  so  was  so  strong  that 

280 


THE  DANGEROUS  FLIGHT 

his  mind  turned  it  into  a  fact,  and  Muller  disappeared 
from  his  thoughts. 

The  garage,  besides  the  great  automobile,  contained 
a  smaller  one,  but  John  kept  the  limousine  in  mind. 
He  intended  when  the  time  came  to  escape  in  it  with 
the  two  women,  if  possible.  There  might  be  a  road 
leading  down  the  other  side  of  the  mountain,  and 
toward  Italy.  If  so,  he  would  surely  try  to  get  through 
when  the  melting  of  the  snow  permitted. 

Meanwhile  he  devoted  himself  with  uncommon  zest 
to  household  duties.  He  cleared  new  paths  about  the 
lodge,  moved  in  much  of  the  wood  where  it  would 
be  more  convenient  for  Suzanne,  cleaned  and  polished 
the  guns  and  revolvers  in  the  little  armory,  inspected 
the  limousine  and  put  it  in  perfect  order,  and  did 
everything  else  that  he  could  think  of  to  make  their 
mountain  castle  luxurious  and  defensible. 

Julie  often  joined  him  in  these  tasks,  and  John  did 
not  remonstrate,  knowing  that  work  and  occupation 
kept  a  mind  healthy.  Wrapped  in  her  great  red  cloak 
and  wearing  the  smallest  pair  of  high  boots  that  he 
could  find  in  the  lodge,  she  often  shoveled  snow  with 
him,  as  he  increased  the  number  of  runways  to  the 
small  outlying  buildings,  or  to  other  parts  of  their 
domain.  Thus  they  filled  up  the  hours  and  prevented 
the  suspense  which  otherwise  would  have  been  acute, 
despite  their  comfortable  house. 

She  continually  revealed  herself  to  him  now.  The 
shell  that  encloses  a  young  French  girl  had  been  broken 
by  the  hammer  of  war  and  she  had  stepped  forth,  a 
woman  with  a  thinking  and  reasoning  mind  of  un- 

281 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

common  power.  It  seemed  often  to  John  that  the 
soul  of  the  great  Lannes  had  descended  upon  this 
slender  maid  who  was  of  his  own  blood.  Like  many 
another  American,  he  had  thought  often  of  those 
marshals  of  Napoleon  who  had  risen  from  obscurity 
to  such  heights,  and  of  them  all,  the  republican  and 
steadfast  Lannes  had  been  his  favorite.  Her  spirit 
was  the  same.  He  found  in  it  a  like  simplicity  and 
courage.  They  seldom  talked  of  the  war,  but  when 
they  did  she  expressed  unbounded  faith  in  the  final 
triumph  of  her  nation  and  of  those  allied  with  it. 

"I  have  read  what  the  world  was  saying  of  France," 
she  said  one  day  when  they  stood  together  on  the 
snowy  slope.  "We  hear,  we  girls,  although  we  are 
mostly  behind  the  walls.  They  have  told  us  that  we 
were  declining  as  a  nation,  and  many  of  our  own 
people  believed  it." 

"The  charge  will  never  be  made  again  against  the 
French  Republic,"  said  John.  "The  French,  by  their 
patience  and  courage  in  the  face  of  preliminary  de 
feat  and  their  dauntless  resolution,  have  won  the 
admiration  of  all  the  world." 

"And  many  Americans  are  fighting  for  us.  Tell 
me,  John,  why  did  you  join  our  armies?" 

"An  accident  first,  as  you  know.  There  was  that 
meeting  with  your  brother  at  the  Austrian  border, 
and  my  appearance  in  the  apparent  role  of  a  spy,  and 
then  my  great  sympathy  with  the  French,  who  I 
thought  and  still  think  were  attacked  by  a  powerful 
and  prepared  enemy  bent  upon  their  destruction.  Then 
I  thought  and  still  think  that  France  and  England 

282 


THE  DANGEROUS  FLIGHT 

represent  democracy  against  absolutism,  and  then, 
although  every  one  of  these  reasons  is  powerful  enough 
alone,  yet  another  has  influenced  me  strongly." 

"And  what  is  that  other,  John?" 

"It's  intangible,  Julie.  It  has  been  weighed  and 
measured  by  nearly  all  the  great  philosophers,  but  I 
don't  think  any  two  of  them  have  ever  agreed  about 
the  result." 

"You  are  a  philosopher,  sir,  too,  are  you  not  ?  How 
do  you  define  it?" 

"I  don't  know  that  I've  arrived  at  any  conclusion." 

"And  yet,  John,  I  thought  that  you  were  a  man  of 
decision." 

"That's  irony,  Julie.  But  men  of  decision  perhaps 
are  puzzled  by  it  more  than  anybody  else." 

"Then  you  can  neither  describe  it  nor  give  it  a  name  ?" 

"It  has  names,  several — but  most  of  them  are  mis 
leading,"  said  John,  thoughtfully. 

"So  you  leave  it  to  me  to  discover  what  this  mys 
terious  influence  may  be,  or  to  remain  forever  in 
ignorance  of  it." 

In  her  dark  red  cloak  with  tendrils  of  the  deep 
golden  hair  showing  at  the  edge  of  her  hood,  she 
seemed  to  John  a  very  sprite  of  the  snows,  and  the 
blue  eyes  said  clearly  to  the  gray: 

"I  know!" 

And  the  gray  answered  back  in  the  same  language : 

"I  know!" 

Nevertheless  John  would  not  let  words  betray  him. 
He  thought  that  the  mountain  and  their  isolation  gave 
him  an  unfair  advantage,  and  the  young  crusader 

283 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

upon  whom  the  mantle  of  chivalry  had  descended  had 
too  knightly  a  soul  to  use  it,  at  least  in  speech. 

"And  so,  sir,"  she  said,  "you  will  not  venture  upon 
such  an  abstruse  subject?" 

"No,  I  think  not.  I  don't  believe  you  could  call  it 
an  evasion,  but  perhaps  it's  fear." 

"Fear  of  what,  John?" 

"I'm  not  sure  about  that,  either.  Perhaps  elsewhere 
and  under  more  suitable  circumstances  I  may  be  able 
to  put  my  thought  into  words,  precise  and  under 
standable.  It  will  take  time,  but  that  I  shall  do  so  some 
day  I  have  no  doubt." 

She  looked  away,  and  then  the  two,  the  snow  shovels 
in  their  hands,  walked  back  gravely  to  the  lodge. 
Suzanne  stood  in  the  doorway  watching  them.  She 
knew  that  they  were  wholly  oblivious  of  her  presence, 
that  they  had  not  even  seen  her,  yet  the  heart  of  the 
stern  peasant  woman  was  warm  within  her,  although 
she  felt  that  she  now  had  two  children  instead  of  one 
under  her  care. 

Neither  was  Suzanne  given  up  wholly  to  the 
present.  She  spent  many  anxious  hours  thinking  of 
the  future.  The  deep  snow  could  not  last  forever. 
Already  there  was  a  warmer  breath  in  the  air.  When 
it  began  to  melt  it  would  go  fast,  and  then  Auers- 
perg — if  he  were  still  at  Zillenstein — eaten  up  with 
impatience  and  anger  because  he  could  hear  nothing 
from  the  lodge,  would  act,  and  he  would  show  no 
mercy  to  the  young  man  with  the  brown  hair  and 
the  gray  eyes,  who  was  now  walking  by  the  side  of 
her  beloved  Julie. 

284 


THE  DANGEROUS  FLIGHT 

John  himself  took  notice  the  next  day  of  the  signs. 
Spring,  which  already  held  sway  in  the  lowlands, 
was  creeping  up  the  slope  of  the  highlands.  The 
sun  was  distinctly  warmer  and  tiny  rivulets  of  water 
flowed  along  the  edges  of  the  runways.  In  a  few 
more  days  retainers  of  Auersperg  or  troops  would 
come  up  the  mountain.  The  prince  himself  might 
have  been  compelled  to  return  to  the  war,  but  he 
would  certainly  leave  orders  in  capable  hands.  John 
never  deluded  himself  for  a  moment  upon  that  subject. 

His  shoveling  in  the  snow  made  him  quite  sure 
now  that  a  road  led  over  the  mountain  and  south 
ward,  and  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  take  the 
automobile  and  the  two  women  and  try  it,  as  soon 
as  the  snow  melted  enough  to  permit  of  such  an 
attempt.  One  might  get  through,  and  he  had  proved 
for  himself  that  fortune  favors  the  daring. 

In  his  explorations  on  the  southern  slope  he  came 
to  a  deep  gulch  in  which  the  tops  of  scrub  pines  showed 
above  the  snow.  Following  its  edge  for  some  distance 
his  eye  at  length  was  caught  by  a  dark  shape  on  the 
rocks.  He  climbed  slowly  and,  pain  fully  down  to  it 
and  saw  the  body  of  a  man,  clothed  like  a  German 
forester.  His  neck  and  many  of  his  bones  were 
broken,  and  his  body  was  bruised  frightfully. 

John  had  no  doubt  that  it  was  the  missing  Muller, 
and  it  was  altogether  likely  that  in  the  storm  he  had 
made  a  misstep,  and  had  fallen  into  the  ravine  to 
instant  death. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  ?"  asked  Julie,  who  saw 
him  going  out,  spade  on  shoulder. 

285 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"I've  found  Muller  at  last,"  he  replied  soberly. 

"Oh!  I  am  sorry!"  she  said,  shuddering  as  she 
looked  at  the  spade. 

"It's  all  I  can  do  for  him  now." 

"I'm  glad  you  thought  to  do  as  much." 

When  John  returned  he  had  carefully  wiped  all  the 
earth  from  the  snow  shovel.  The  subject  of  Muller 
was  never  again  mentioned  by  either  of  them,  and 
while  he  experienced  sorrow  for  a  man  whom  he  had 
never  seen  and  who  was  an  official  enemy,  he  felt  that 
a  shadow  was  lifted  from  them. 

The  sun  grew  much  warmer  the  next  day,  and  the 
snow  began  to  melt  fast.  The  rivulets  in  the  run 
ways  swelled  rapidly.  The  snow  sank  inch  by  inch, 
and  warm  winds  blew  on  the  slopes.  The  pines  were 
now  clear  and  little  rivers  were  running  down  every 
ravine  and  gulch.  The  thunder  of  great  masses  of 
snow,  loosened  by  the  thaw  and  gathering  weight  as 
they  rolled  down  the  mountain  side,  came  to  their 
ears.  The  sky  was  a  brilliant  blue,  pouring  down  con 
tinuous  warm  beams,  and  it  was  obvious  that  it  would 
not  be  long  before  the  automobile  road  was  clear. 
Then  the  blue  eyes  turned  a  questioning  gaze  upon 
the  gray. 

"Yes,  I'm  preparing  for  us  to  go  soon,"  said  John. 

"Which  way?"  asked  Julie. 

"Toward  Italy,  I  think." 

"Is  it  possible  for  us  to  get  through?" 

"I  don't  know.  The  hardships  and  the  dangers 
undoubtedly  will  be  great."  • 

"But  one  can  endure  them." 
286 


THE  DANGEROUS  FLIGHT 

"You  have  little  to  fear.  Prince  Karl  of  Auers- 
perg  offers  you  morganatic  marriage,  and  he  thinks 
that  he  is  honoring  you." 

"But  do  you,  John,  think  that  he  is  honoring  me?" 

"Although  you  would  probably  be  a  mere  countess 
and  not  a  princess,  your  position  nevertheless  would 
be  great  in  most  continental  eyes,  far  grander  than 
if  you  were  to  marry  some  obscure  republican." 

"You  haven't  answered  me.  Do  you  think  the 
Prince  of  Auersperg  would  be  honoring  me?" 

"I'm  not  a  judge  to  make  decisions.  I'm  merely 
stating  the  facts  on  either  side." 

"But  suppose  I  should  meet  this  simple  and  obscure 
republican  and,  through  some  singular  chance,  should 
happen  to  love  him,  would  it  not  be  better  for  my 
pride  and  more  promising  for  my  happiness  to  marry 
him  on  terms  of  full  equality  rather  than  to  marry 
Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg,  a  man  old  enough  to  be 
my  father,  and  yet  remain  all  my  life  his  inferior? 
As  we  understand  it  in  France  and  as  you  understand 
it  in  America,  republicanism  means  equality,  does  it 
not,  sir?" 

"If  it  doesn't  mean  that  it  means  nothing." 

"Then,  sir,  being  what  I  am,  you  may  be  sure 
that  I  shall  not  stay  here  to  await  Prince  Karl  of 
Auersperg,  and  his  unsought  honors." 

"You  are  the  judge,  Julie,  after  all,  and  I  believed 
it  was  the  decision  you  would  make.  Yet,  it  was 
only  fair  to  lay  the  full  facts  before  you." 

John  knew  that  the  attempt  to  escape  southward 
through  the  mountains  would  be  attended  by  great 

287 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

danger,  not  only  from  the  Austrians,  but  from  the 
risks  of  the  road  itself,  when  the  great  automobile, 
slipping  on  melting  snow  and  ice,  might  go  crashing 
at  any  moment  into  a  gorge.  Yet  it  must  be  done. 
Another  day  brought  home  the  extreme  necessity  of 
it.  All  the  mountains  thundered  with  the  sliding 
snow,  and  the  prince's  men  would  certainly  come 
soon. 

The  garage  contained  an  ample  supply  of  gasoline 
and  extra,  tires,  and  John  saw  that  the  machine  was 
in  perfect  order.  He  also  stored  in  it  clothing,  food 
for  many  days,  two  rifles  and  many  cartridges.  It 
was  thus  at  once  a  carriage,  a  home  and  a  fortress. 
Then  he  told  Julie  that  they  must  start  the  next  morn 
ing.  Enough  snow  was  gone  to  disclose  the  road 
leading  southward,  and  he  believed  that  he  could  drive 
the  limousine  down  the  mountain. 

"Are  you  willing  to  trust  yourself  to  me,  Julie?" 
he  asked. 

"Through  everything,"  she  replied. 

Suzanne  also  was  eager  to  go,  and,  in  her  character 
now  as  a  full  member  of  the  little  company,  she  did 
not  hesitate  to  say  so. 

"Our  comfort  here  may  cause  us  to  linger  too  long, 
sir,"  she  said  to  John,  when  Julie  was  not  present. 
"My  mistress  has  been  twice  in  the  hands  of  the 
Prince  of  Auersperg  and  twice  through  you  she  has 
escaped  him.  There  is  certain  death  for  you  if  he 
finds  you  and  I  know  not  what  for  my  mistress  if 
she  should  be  taken  by  him  once  more.  Hardened 
by  his  years  and  her  resistance  he  would  seek  to  break 

288 


THE  DANGEROUS  FLIGHT 

her.     It  has  seemed  to  me  sometimes,  sir,  that  you 
were  sent  by  God  to  save  us." 

The  woman's  faith,  which  had  so  completely  r> 
placed  her  original  distrust  and  hostility,  moved  John. 

"Suzanne,"  he  said,  "she  shall  never  again  be  in 
the  power  of  that  man.  I  don't  know  what  the  future 
holds  for  us,  but  I  think  I  can  promise  her  escape 
from  Auersperg." 

"And  others  will  come  to  help  us,"  said  Suzanne, 
with  all  the  intensity  of  a  prophetess.  "You  left  word, 
you  have  said,  which  way  you  were  going,  and  it  will 
reach  Monsieur  Philip.  It  will  not  be  so  hard  to 
trace  us  to  Zillenstein,  and  he  will  surely  follow.  He 
flies  in  the  air  like  the  eagle,  and  we  will  see  him  some 
day  black  against  the  sky." 

The  two  by  the  same  impulse  looked  up.  But  there 
was  nothing  showing  in  the  blue  vault,  save  feathery 
white  clouds.  Nevertheless  the  faith  of  neither  was 
dimmed. 

"I  feel  the  certainty  of  it,  too,"  said  John.  "Philip 
and  the  Arrow  will  answer  to  our  call." 

"And  my  father,"  said  Suzanne  in  the  same  tones 
of  unshakable  faith.  "He  was  left  a  prisoner  in 
Munich,  but  few  prisons  can  hold  Antoine  Picard. 
He  will  surely  seek  us  through  all  the  mountains." 

John's  faith  was  already  strong,  but  Suzanne's  made 
it  stronger.  A  high  nature  always  tries  to  deserve 
the  trust  it  receives.  Early  the  following  morning  the 
automobile  was  ready,  and  Julie  and  Suzanne,  wrapped 
in  their  cloaks,  took  their  places  inside.  John  stood 
beside  it,  in  chauffeur's  garb  with  cap  and  glasses. 

289 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"It's  the  last  look  at  the  lodge,  Julie,"  he  said. 
"When  the  Prince  of  Auersperg  built  it  he  never 
dreamed  that  it  would  serve  as  a  refuge  for  those 
who  were  escaping  from  him.  But  it  hasn't  been  such 
a  bad  home,  has  it?" 

"No,"  she  replied.  "It  will  always  have  a  place 
among  my  pleasant  memories." 

"And  among  mine." 

He  sprang  into  his  seat  and  grasped  the  wheel.  The 
automobile  began  a  slow  and  cautious  descent  of  the 
mountain's  southward  slope.  However  reluctant  one 
is  to  prepare  for  a  start  there  is  invariably  a  certain 
elation  after  the  start  is  made,  and  John  felt  the 
uplift  now.  He  could  not  yet  see  his  way  out  of 
Austria,  but  he  felt  that  he  would  find  it.  He  did 
not  even  know  where  their  present  road  led,  except 
that  it  disappeared  in  a  valley,  filled  with  mists  and 
vapors  from  the  melting  snows. 

John  had  preserved  the  pass  given  to  him  by  the 
German  officer,  and  thinking  he  might  be  able  to 
make  use  of  it  again,  he  dropped  the  name  of  John 
Scott  once  more  and  returned  to  that  of  Jean  Castel, 
asking  Julie  and  Suzanne  to  remember  the  change, 
whenever  they  should  meet  anyone.  But  it  was  a  long 
before  they  saw  a  human  being. 

They  came  at  last  to  the  bottom  of  a  narrow  valley, 
and  the  strain  of  driving  under  such  dangerous  cir 
cumstances  had  been  so  great  that  John  felt  com 
pelled  to  take  a  rest  of  a  half-hour.  Julie  descended 
from  the  machine  and  walked  back  and  forth  in  the 
road.  They  saw  that  they  were  in  a  narrow  valley 

290 


THE  DANGEROUS  FLIGHT 

down  which  flowed  a  stream,  much  swollen  by  the 
melting  snow.  But  the  grass  and  foliage  were  heavy 
here  and  the  air  was  warm. 

"I  have  resolved,  Julie,"  said  John,  "to  say,  if  we 
are  pressed  closely,  that  you  are  a  lady  of  the  house 
hold  of  the  Prince  of  Auersperg,  accompanied  by  your 
maid,  and  that,  wishing  to  get  out  of  the  war  zone, 
I'm  deputed  to  carry  you  to  the  port  of  Trieste.  I 
can't  think  of  anything  else  that  seems  likely  to  serve 
us  better." 

"We're  in  your  hands." 

"Aye,  so  we  are,  sir,"  said  the  bold  Suzanne,  "but 
we  also  have  hands  of  our  own  and  can  help." 

"I  know  it,  Suzanne,  and  I  know  that  you  will  not 
fail  when  the  time  comes." 

Julie  returned  to  the  machine  and  John  put  his 
hand  on  the  wheel  again,  finding  it  a  great  relief  to 
drive  on  a  fairly  level  road.  Throughout  the  descent 
of  the  slope  he  had  been  in  fear  of  skidding  and  a 
fatal  smash.  Although  much  snow  was  left  on  the 
crests  and  sides  of  the  mountains,  none  was  visible 
in  the  valley,  and  the  great  mass  of  green  foliage 
was  restful  to  the  eye. 

"The  first  inhabitant  to  greet  us,"  said  John. 

A  man  driving  a  flock  of  sheep  was  coming  toward 
them.  He  was  a  sturdy  fellow,  with  a  red  feather 
in  his  cap,  which  was  cocked  a  bit  saucily  on  one  side 
of  his  head.  It  was  evident  that  he  was  a  shepherd, 
whose  sheep  had  been  driven  into  the  lowlands  by 
the  storm.  John,  both  from  prudence  and  natural 
consideration,  brought  his  machine  down  to  a  slow 

291 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

pace,  and  spoke  pleasantly  to  the  man,  who  was  look 
ing  at  them  with  much  curiosity. 

"We're  from  the  family  of  the  Prince  of  Auers- 
perg,"  said  John,  "and  we're  making  our  way  toward 
the  coast.  The  prince  wishes  a  lady  whom  he  esteems 
very  highly  to  reach  Trieste  as  soon  as  possible. 
"Where  can  we  find  the  best  inn  for  the  night?" 

"The  village  of  Tellnitz,  which  you  should  reach 
about  dark,  has  a  famous  inn,  and  there  is  no  finer 
landlord  than  Herr  Leinf elder." 

John  thanked  him,  and  drove  on,  increasing  his 
speed,  after  he  had  passed  the  sheep.  He  looked  back 
once,  and  saw  the  shepherd  placidly  driving  his  flock 
before  him.  He  was  singing,  too,  and  the  musical 
notes  came  to  them,  telling  them  very  clearly  that  one 
Austrian,  at  least,  did  not  suspect  them. 

"Our  first  test  has  been  passed  successfully,"  said 
John,  "and  I  look  upon  it  as  a  good  omen.  But  don't 
forget  that  I'm  Jean  Castel  of  Lorraine,  French  by 
descent,  but  a  devoted  German  subject,  in  the  service 
of  the  Prince  of  Auersperg.  I  intend  that  we  shall 
pass  the  night  in  the  inn  of  the  good  Herr  Leinfelder 
at  Tellnitz,  and  I  believe  that  we  will  go  on  the  next 
day  still  unsuspected.  I've  seen  no  telephone  wires 
in  the  valley,  and  doubtless  there  is  no  connection 
between  Zillenstein  and  Tellnitz." 

They  passed  more  peasants,  none  of  whom  asked 
them  any  questions,  but  they  saw  no  soldiers. 

Toward  night  they  beheld  the  usual  lofty  church 
spire,  and  then  the  huddled  houses  of  a  small  village. 
One  rather  larger  than  the  others  and  with  a  red- 

292 


THE  DANGEROUS  FLIGHT 

tiled  roof  John  thought  must  be  the  inn  of  the  good 
Herr  Leinf elder,  and  his  surmise  proved  to  be  correct. 

"It's  fortunate  that  you  are  blond,"  said  John  to 
Julie,  "as  most  people  think  the  French  are  dark. 
Still,  both  you  and  Suzanne  look  French,  and  I  recom 
mend  that  you  do  not  take  off  your  wraps  until  you 
go  to  your  room,  and  that  you  also  have  your  dinner 
served  there.  It's  best  for  you,  Mademoiselle  Julie, 
to  be  seen  as  little  as  possible,  and  your  role  as  a 
great  lady  of  the  semi-royal  house  of  Auersperg 
permits  it.  Now,  may  I  lay  the  injunction  upon  both 
you  and  Suzanne  that  you  permit  me  to  do  all  the 
talking?" 

"I  obey,"  said  Julie,  "but  I'm  not  so  sure  of  Stf- 
zanne." 

"I  never  talk  unless  it's  needful  for  me  to  speak," 
said  Suzanne  with  dignity. 

Many  eyes  watched  the  great  limousine  as  it  rolled 
into  Tellnitz,  and  stopped  before  the  excellent  inn  of 
Herr  Johann  Ignatz  Leinfelder.  Herr  Leinfelder 
himself  appeared  upon  the  gravel,  his  round  red  face 
beaming  at  the  sight  of  guests,  evidently  of  import 
ance,  at  a  time  when  so  few  guests  of  any  kind  at  all 
came.  John  in  his  role  of  chauffeur  said  to  him  with 
an  air  of  importance: 

"A  lady  of  the  family  of  Prince  Karl  of  Auers 
perg,  on  her  way  to  Trieste.  She  wishes  a  room,  the 
very  best  room  you  have,  to  which  she  can  retire  with 
her  maid  and  seek  the  rest  she  so  badly  needs  after 
her  long  journey  over  bad  roads." 

The  good  Herr  Leinfelder  bowed  low.    John's  man- 
293 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

ner  impressed  him.  It  was  a  perfect  reproduction 
of  the  style  affected  by  the  flunkies  of  the  great. 

"We  have  a  splendid  chamber  for  the  princess  and 
a  smaller  one  adjoining  for  her  maid,"  said  the  host. 
"It's  an  honor  to  Tellnitz  and  to  me  that  a  lady  of 
the  house  of  Auersperg  should  stop  at  my  inn.  The 
prince  himself,  we  hear,  has  returned  to  the  great 
war." 

"Ah!"  said  John,  but  there  was  immense  satisfac 
tion  under  the  subdued  "ah"  over  the  important  in 
formation  coming  to  him  by  mere  chance.  He  opened 
the  door  for  Julie  and  Suzanne  to  alight,  and  still 
heavily  muffled  they  were  bowed  into  the  house  by 
Herr  Leinfelder. 

"I  shall  be  on  guard  tonight,"  whispered  John  to 
Julie,  as  she  passed.  "Did  you  hear  him  say  that 
the  Prince  of  Auersperg  had  gone  back  to  the  war?" 

She  nodded  as  she  disappeared  into  the  interior  of 
the  inn,  and  he  knew  that  a  weight  had  been  lifted 
from  her  heart  also.  The  pursuit  surely  could  not 
be  so  fierce  and  lasting  when  the  one  who  gave  it 
impulse  was  gone. 

There  was  a  small  garage  behind  the  inn,  and  the 
great  automobile  almost  filled  it,  but  John,  clinging 
to  his  role  of  chauffeur,  which  was  expedient  in  every 
sense,  would  not  trust  it  to  any  of  the  servants  of  the 
hotel.  He  inspected  it  carefully  himself,  saw  that 
everything  was  in  proper  order,  and  not  until  then 
did  he  enter  the  inn  in  search  of  food  and  fire. 

"My  mistress  ?"  he  asked  of  August,  the  head  waiter. 
"Has  she  been  properly  served?  His  Highness, 

294 


THE  DANGEROUS  FLIGHT 

Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg,  will  not  forget  it  if  a  lady 
of  his  family  does  not  receive  the  deference  due  to 
her." 

"Dinner  has  just  been  served  to  the  princess,"  said 
August,  deferentially,  as  the  chauffeur's  tone  had  been 
peremptory.  "I  return  in  a  moment  myself  to  see 
that  every  detail  is  attended  to  properly." 

"Then  look  to  it,"  said  John,  as  he  slipped  a  five- 
kronen  piece  into  his  hand,  "and  see  also  that  she 
is  not  disturbed  afterward.  Her  Highness  wishes  a 
good  night's  rest." 

August  bowed  low  with  gratitude  and  hurried  away 
to  do  his  commission.  John  himself,  as  a  man  who 
carried  gold,  was  treated  with  deference,  and  he  had 
an  excellent  dinner  in  a  dining-room  that  contained  but 
three  or  four  other  guests.  Here  in  accordance  with 
his  plan  he  talked  rather  freely  with  Herr  Leinfelder, 
and  the  few  servants  that  the  war  had  left  him. 

He  enlarged  upon  the  greatness  of  Prince  Karl  of 
Auersperg  and  the  ancient  grandeur  of  his  Castle  of 
Zillenstein.  He  referred  vaguely  to  the  young  princess 
whom  he  escorted  as  a  cousin  or  a  niece,  and  spoke 
complacently  because  he  had  been  assigned  to  the 
important  duty  of  taking  her  to  Trieste.  There  was 
need  of  haste,  too.  He  knew  his  orders,  and  he 
would  start  in  the  morning  at  the  very  first  breath 
of  dawn.  He  was  also  empowered,  if  necessary,  to 
fight  for  her  safety.  The  rifles  and  pistols  in  the 
automobile  were  sufficient  proof  or  it,  and  he  had 
been  trained  to  shoot  by  the  Prince's  head  forester, 
Muller. 

295 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

Herr  Johann  Ignatz  Leinfelder  was  much  im 
pressed.  This  young  chauffeur  who  spoke  with  such 
assurance  was  a  fine,  upstanding  fellow,  obviously 
strong  and  brave,  the  very  kind  of  a  man  whom  a 
prince  like  Auersperg  would  employ  on  a  duty  of  such 
great  importance.  Hence,  Herr  Leinfelder  bowed 
lower  than  ever,  when  he  spoke  to  John. 

After  dinner,  the  waiter,  August,  came  with  word 
that  the  princess  was  much  refreshed  and  bade  her 
chauffeur  come  to  her  apartments  for  orders.  He 
found  her  standing  by  a  window  with  the  watchful 
Suzanne  hovering  near,  but  he  did  not  speak  until 
the  waiter  withdrew  and  closed  the  door. 

The  paleness  begat  by  the  long  weariness  of  the 
ride  was  gone  from  her  face,  the  beautiful  color  flow 
ing  back  in  a  full  tide,  and  she  stood  up  straight  and 
strong.  The  room  was  lighted  by  two  tall  candles, 
and  the  glow  in  John's  eyes  was  met  by  an  answering 
glow  in  hers. 

"You  think  it  wise  to  spend  the  night  here?"  she 
asked. 

"It  seems  to  me  that  we  should  risk  it.  In  the 
darkness  the  roads  will  be  dangerous  from  the  melt 
ing  snows.  Nor  should  we  exhaust  ourselves  in  the 
first  stage  of  our  flight.  It's  scarcely  possible  that  any 
word  from  Zillenstein  can  reach  Tellnitz  tonight  and 
tomorrow  we'll  be  far  away.  What  say  you,  Suzanne  ?" 

"I  agree,  sir,  with  you,  who  are  our  master  here," 
replied  Suzanne  with  uncommon  deference.  "A  start 
at  dawn,  and  we  can  leave  pursuit  behind  for  the 
present  at  least." 

296 


THE  DANGEROUS  FLIGHT 

Julie  smiled  a  little  at  this  proof  that  young  Scott's 
conquest  of  her  stern  maid  was  complete. 

"I'll  bid  Herr  Leinfelder  have  breakfast  for  us  at 
the  earliest  possible  moment,"  he  said,  "and  now, 
I  think  it  would  be  better  for  you  two  to  sleep,  because 
tomorrow  we  may  need  all  our  strength.  You  know 
as  well  as  I  the  dangers  that  lie  before  us." 

Outside  the  door  he  was  the  haughty  chauffeur 
again,  the  subservient  servant  of  Auersperg,  and  the 
arrogant  patron  of  the  innkeeper  and  waiters.  He 
secured  a  good  room  for  himself,  in  which  he  slept 
until  he  was  called  by  his  order  at  the  first  light  of 
dawn,  and  he  was  assured  by  the  manner  of  Herr 
Leinfelder  that  no  word  of  the  fugitives  had  come  in 
the  night. 

"Breakfast  is  ready  for  the  princess,"  said  the  inn 
keeper,  bowing. 

John  knocked  at  her  door,  and  she  came  forth  at 
once,  followed  by  Suzanne,  both  fully  dressed  for  the 
journey. 

"No  alarm  has  yet  come  to  Tellnitz,"  whispered 
John,  as  she  passed.  "Remember  that  they  think  you 
a  princess  of  the  house  of  Auersperg,  and  that  we  must 
start  in  a  half-hour." 

He  ate  his  own  breakfast  at  another  table,  and 
within  the  appointed  time  the  great  limousine  was 
at  the  door.  Herr  Leinfelder  and  his  staff  had  no  rea 
son  to  change  their  belief  that  the  lady  of  such  manifest 
youth  and  beauty  was  a  princess,  as  their  chauffeur 
gave  gratuities  in  truly  royal  style,  and  then  whirled 
them  away  in  a  manner  that  was  obviously  ducal. 

297 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

The  morning  was  fresh  and  beautiful,  silver  as  yet, 
since  only  an  edge  of  the  sun  was  showing  over  the 
hills,  but  it  was  fragrant  with  the  odor  of  foliage 
and  of  wild  flowers,  blossoming  in  the  nooks  and 
crannies  under  the  slopes.  John  felt  a  great  surge  of 
the  spirits  and  he  sent  the  machine  forward  at  a  rate 
that  made  the  air  rush  in  a  swift  current  behind  them. 

"The  first  stage  of  our  flight  has  been  passed  in 
safety,"  he  said  to  Julie. 

"It's  an  omen  that  we'll  be  as  fortunate  with  the 
second." 

"And  with  the  third." 

"And  with  all  the  others." 

She  flashed  him  a  brilliant  smile,  and  John  felt 
that  he  could  drive  over  any  obstacle.  He  sent  the 
machine  forward  faster  than  ever,  and  the  road 
stretched  before  them,  long  and  white. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE    HAPPY    ESCAPE 

THEY  said  very  little  now.  John  drove  on 
through  a  great  happy  silence.  All  the  omens 
were  good,  and  he  believed  that  they  would 
escape.  Surely,  fortune  was  with  them  when  they 
had  been  able  to  come  so  far  without  challenge.  The 
sun  swam  over  the  earth  and  threw  golden  beams  into 
the  valley.  On  their  right  a  swift  stream  chattered 
over  the  stones  and  further  away  on  their  left  rose 
the  steep  slopes,  heavy  with  forest.  They  passed 
farmers  and  shepherds  who  had  little  time  to  take 
notice,  as  they  saw  the  great  machine  but  a  moment, 
auJ  then  it  was  gone. 

John  had  his  mind  set  on  escape  by  the  way  of  the 
Adriatic.  He  had  heard  rumors  that  Italy  might 
enter  the  war  on  the  side  of  the  Allies,  but  he  knew 
that  it  had  not  yet  taken  any  action  and  he  had  high 
hopes  of  finding  a  path  to  safety  in  that  direction. 
Meanwhile,  and  whatever  came  of  it,  he  must  press 
on. 

Toward  noon  he  slackened  speed,  and  they  ate  a 
little  from  the  supplies  they  carried  in  the  automo 
bile.  Just  as  they  finished  Suzanne  held  up  her  hand : 
"I  think  I  hear  another  machine  coming,"  she  said. 

299 


"You  are  right,"  said  John,  after  he  had  listened 
intently  for  a  full  minute.  "It's  the  humming  sound 
of  tires,  but  it's  only  one  automobile.  Of  that  I'm  sure, 
and  I  think  it's  a  light  one.  We'll  drive  on  at  moder 
ate  speed,  attending  strictly  to  our  own  business." 

But  he  loosened  the  revolver  in  his  belt,  and  while 
he  appeared  to  look  straight  ahead  he  had  eye  and 
ear  also  for  the  approaching  machine,  which  obviously 
was  coming  at  a  great  pace. 

"It's  a  small  automobile  with  only  one  person  in  it," 
said  Julie. 

"Then  we  have  nothing  to  fear,"  said  John. 

"But  the  figure  of  the  man  at  the  wheel  looks 
familiar." 

"Ah!"  said  John,  drawing  a  deep  breath.  In  that 
region  a  familiar  face  could  scarcely  be  the  face  of 
a  friend.  He  stiffened  a  little,  and  cast  another  look 
at  the  revolver  in  his  belt  to  see  that  it  was  convenient 
to  his  hand.  Then,  to  indicate  that  he  was  not  run 
ning  away  and  to  prevent  suspicion,  he  slackened  >.iie 
speed  of  the  machine.  As  he  did  so  the  humming 
behind  them  rapidly  grew  louder  and  a  light  runabout 
drew  up  by  their  side.  John  uttered  a  cry  of  amaze 
ment  as  he  saw  the  man  at  the  wheel. 

It  was  Weber,  the  Alsatian,  in  civilian  clothing, 
his  black  beard  trimmed  nicely  to  a  point,  his  eyes 
flashing  a  smile  of  welcome,  as  he  took  off  his  cap 
and  bowed  low  to  John  and  Mademoiselle  Julie  Lannes, 
but  lower  to  Julie.  John  brought  his  machine  down 
to  a  slow  pace,  and  there  was  room  for  Weber's  by 
their  side  in  the  road. 

300 


THE  HAPPY  ESCAPE 

"You  never  dreamed  of  being  overtaken  by  me 
here,"  said  the  Alsatian,  smiling  again,  and  showing 
his  white  teeth. 

"No,"  replied  John.  "It  never  occurred  to  me  that 
it  was  you  behind  us." 

"After  all,  I  am,  I  think,  your  good  angel.  In  your 
flight  with  Mademoiselle  Larmes  you  need  advice  and 
guidance,  and  I  can  give  both." 

"You  do  appear  at  the  most  opportune  times.  It 
has  become  a  habit  for  which  I  am  grateful." 

"It's  not  chance  that  I'm  here.  It's  pursuit  and 
design.  You  know  my  duties  as  a  spy,  an  ugly  name, 
perhaps,  but  one  that  calls  for  daring  and  patriotism. 
Hearing  of  the  council  held  at  Zillenstein  by  Prince 
Karl  of  Auersperg  I  went  there  to  learn  what  I  could 
of  it.  The  information  that  I  was  able  to  secure 
is  in  the  hands  of  a  confederate  now  on  his  way  to 
Paris,  and  I  remained  to  probe  into  the  mystery  of 
Mademoiselle  Lannes'  disappearance." 

"Then  you  learned  of  the  hunting  lodge  on  the 
mountain?" 

"Very  quickly.  I  discovered,  too,  that  Mademoiselle 
Lannes  and  her  maid  had  been  taken  away  by  a  young 
chauffeur,  coming  from  somewhere  in  Lorraine,  who 
had  been  only  a  short  time  at  the  castle.  Knowing 
you  for  what  you  are,  Mr.  Scott,  and  understanding 
your  devotion,  I  leaped  at  once  to  the  conclusion  that 
it  was  you.  I  slipped  away  as  soon  as  the  snow  melted 
sufficiently,  and  was  the  first  from  the  outside  world 
to  reach  the  lodge.  The  absence  of  the  limousine,  the 
tire  tracks  leading  toward  Tellnitz  and  other  evidence 

301 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

at  the  lodge  showed  without  doubt  that  my  conclu 
sions  were  right." 

"And  you  followed  immediately?" 

"Without  delay.  I  reached  Tellnitz,  where  you 
stopped,  obtained  this  light  machine  and  came  on  at 
speed.  It  will  be  my  pleasure  to  help  as  much  as  I 
can  you  and  the  sister  of  the  great  Philip  Lannes,  the 
first  aviator  of  France." 

"You  left  France  after  we  did,  Monsieur  Weber," 
said  Julie.  "Did  you  hear  anything  of  Philip?" 

"That  he  had  recovered  fully  of  his  wound,  Made 
moiselle,  and  that  he  and  the  Arrow  were  once  more 
in  the  service  of  his  country.  He  knows  of  your 
abduction  by  Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg.  A  friend,  an 
aviator,  Delaunois,  furnished  him  with  many  facts, 
and  I  cannot  doubt  that  he  will  come  over  Austria  in 
the  Arrow  to  seek  your  rescue." 

The  eyes  of  Julie,  John  and  Suzanne,  as  with  one 
impulse,  turned  upward.  It  seemed  to  John,  for  a 
moment  or  two,  that  his  vivid  imagination  could  fairly 
create  the  slender  and  graceful  shape  of  Philip's  aero 
plane,  outlined  against  the  sky.  But  the  heavens  were 
flawless,  a  pure,  unbroken  blue,  without  speck  or  stain, 
and  he  suppressed  a  little  sigh  of  disappointment. 

"Do  you  know  the  country  at  all?"  he  asked  of 
Weber. 

"Somewhat.  It  was  a  part  of  my  work  before  the 
war  to  pass  through  all  the  regions  of  Germany  and 
Austria,  and  learn  as  much  of  them  as  I  could.  At 
the  end  of  this  valley  is  a  small  village  called  Oben- 
stein,  where  perhaps  it  would  be  wise  for  us  to  spend 

302 


THE  HAPPY  ESCAPE 

the  next  night.  After  that  we  must  devise  some 
method  of  getting  out  of  Austria — and  I  do  not  seek 
to  conceal  from  you  that  it  will  be  a  most  difficult 
task.  Perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  change  your  plan 
and  enter  Switzerland,  a  neutral  country.  It,  of  course, 
would  end  your  service  as  a  soldier,  but  that,  I  take  it, 
would  be  no  great  hardship  to  you  now." 

The  color  came  into  John's  face,  but  he  was  bound 
to  admit  that  Weber  was  right.  His  interest  in  the 
war  had  become  far  less  than  his  interest  in  Julie 
Lannes. 

"Perhaps  we  can  tell  better  after  we  spend  the  night 
at  Obenstein,"  he  said. 

"Nothing  can  be  hurt  by  reserving  our  verdict  until 
tomorrow,"  said  Weber.  "Obenstein  is  very  se 
cluded.  I  believe  that  it  has  neither  telephone  nor 
telegraph,  and  we'll  surely  be  able  to  leave  it  to 
morrow  before  any  pursuit  can  reach  us." 

"Do  you  think  the  plan  a  good  one?"  said  John  to 
Julie. 

"I  know  of  no  better,"  she  replied  in  English.  "I 
trust  to  you  and  Mr.  Weber." 

"Then  it's  agreed,"  said  John  to  Weber. 

"It's  agreed." 

The  Alsatian  now  led  the  way  in  his  light  machine, 
and  the  limousine  followed  at  an  interval  of  fifty  or 
sixty  yards.  One  hour,  then  two  and  three  passed, 
and  nothing  came  in  the  way  of  their  easy  and  rapid 
progress.  It  all  seemed  too  smooth  and  fortunate  to 
John.  It  was  incredible  that  they  could  travel  thus 
great  distances  through  Austria,  the  land  of  the  enemy. 

303 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

He  knew  that  chance  had  a  way  of  finding  a 
balance,  and  violent  and  fierce  events  might  be  before 
them. 

But  as  he  drove  on  he  scanned  the  heavens  now  and 
then  with  a  questing  eye.  It  had  not  occurred  to 
him  until  Weber  spoke  that  all  of  them  might  escape 
through  the  air.  Lannes  would  trail  them,  not  on 
the  earth,  but  through  mists  and  clouds.  He  would 
come,  too,  with  friends  almost  as  daring  and  skillful 
as  himself,  perhaps  with  Caumartin  and  the  two,  Cas- 
telneau  and  Mery,  who  had  responded  to  the  thrilling 
Signal  near  Salzburg,  when  he  took  his  first  flight. 
His  blood  leaped  and  danced,  and  once  more  his  eyes 
roved  over  the  blue  in  search  of  the  Arrow. 

They  came  to  Obenstein  a  little  before  dusk.  It 
was  a  tiny  village,  almost  hidden  in  a  recess  of  the 
mountain,  with  a  shaggy  pine  forest  rising  above  it 
and  casting  its  shadow  over  the  houses.  But  there 
was  a  small,  neat  inn,  and  a  garage  for  the  machines, 
and  the  guests  were  received  with  the  same  hospitality 
that  had  been  shown  at  Tellnitz.  John  again  spread 
the  rumor  that  it  was  a  princess  of  the  house  of 
Auersperg  who  came,  and  he  added  Weber  to  the 
list  of  those  who  were  attending  her  in  her  flight  to 
a  safer  region.  Julie  withdrew  as  before  to  her  room 
with  her  maid,  but  giving  John,  before  she  went,  the 
brilliant  smile  of  faith  and  confidence  that  would  have 
sent  him,  sword  in  hand,  against  dragons. 

He  and  Weber  sat  awhile  in  the  little  smoking- 
room  talking  in  low  tones  of  their  journey.  Most 
of  the  time  they  were  alone,  a  waiter  merely  passing 

304 


THE  HAPPY  ESCAPE 

through  now  and  then,  and  they  had  no  fear  of  being 
overheard. 

"Weber,"  he  said,  "I've  learned  from  the  innkeeper 
that  a  mountain  road  leads  from  here  toward  Swit 
zerland  and  I  feel  sure  already  that  your  suggestion 
about  our  escaping  into  that  country  is  good.  You, 
of  course,  when  you  reach  the  border  will  do  as  you 
choose,  as  you  will  want  to  continue  the  dangerous 
work  upon  which  you're  engaged.  But  you  may  be 
sure  that  if  we  do  get  through,  Mademoiselle  Lannes 
and  I  will  never  forget  the  help  that  you  have  given 
us." 

"All  that  I  do  I  do  gladly,"  said  Weber.  "You 
may  not  have  spoken  to  each  other  but  it  is  easy  for 
me  to  tell  how  matters  stand  between  Mademoiselle 
Lannes  and  you." 

John  was  silent  but  his  color  deepened. 

"You  must  not  mind  my  saying  these  things,"  said 
Weber,  speaking  easily.  "I'm  older  than  you  and 
the  times  are  unusual.  When  you  reach  Paris  you 
and  Mademoiselle  Lannes  will  be  married." 

John  was  still  silent. 

"And  you  will  take  her  to  America  for  the  present, 
or  at  least  until  the  war  is  over.  Ah,  well!  You're 
a  happy  man!  Youth  and  the  springtime!  Beauty 
and  love!  Kings  can  procure  no  more  and  seldom 
as  much!  I  think  I'll  walk  in  the  air  a  little  and 
have  a  smoke." 

"And  I,"  said  John,  "will  go  to  sleep.  I've  a  tiny 
room  on  the  ground  floor,  but  it's  big  enough  to  hold 
me.  Good  night." 

305 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"Good  night,  Mr.  Scott." 

There  was  only  a  single  window  in  John's  little 
room,  but  before  undressing  he  opened  it  and  stood 
there  to  breathe  the  cool  night  air  for  a  while.  It 
looked  upon  the  forest  that  ran  up  the  slope  of  the 
mountain,  and  the  odor  of  the  pines  was  very  pleas 
ant.  Looking  idly  at  the  trunks  and  the  foliage  he 
saw  a  shadow  pass  into  the  depths  of  the  forest  and 
something,  a  pulse  in  his  temple,  perhaps,  struck  a 
warning  note.  » 

A  shiver  ran  down  his  back  and  his  hair  lifted, 
as  if  touched  with  electric  sparks.  Acting  at  once 
under  impulse  he  touched  the  pistol  inside  the  pocket 
of  his  jacket  to  see  that  it  was  all  right,  and  slipped 
out  of  the  room. 

He  had  marked  the  point  at  which  the  shadow  dis 
appeared  in  the  forest  and  he  followed  it  on  light 
foot.  He  had  been  awakened  as  if  a  stroke  of  light 
ning  had  blazed  suddenly  before  his  eyes,  and  now 
his  brain  was  seething  with  fierce  thoughts,  called  up 
by  a  long  chain  of  incidents,  all  at  once  made  com 
plete. 

His  hand  slipped  again  to  the  revolver  and  he  drew 
it  forth,  holding  it  ready  for  instant  use.  Then  he 
went  forward  swiftly  again  on  noiseless  steps,  and 
once  more  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  flitting  shadow 
straight  ahead.  He  increased  his  speed  and  the 
shadow  resolved  itself  into  the  figure  of  a  man,  a 
figure  that  seemed  familiar  to  him. 

Two  or  three  times  the  man  stopped  and  looked 
back,  but  John  had  shrunk  behind  a  tree  and  no  pur- 

306 


THE  HAPPY  ESCAPE 

suit  was  visible.  Then  he  resumed  his  rapid  flight 
up  the  steep  slope,  and  young  Scott  persistently  fol 
lowed,  never  once  losing  sight  of  the  active  figure. 

The  way  led  to  the  crest  of  the  mountain  which 
hung  about  two  thousand  feet  above  the  village  and 
it  was  a  climb  requiring  some  time  and  endurance, 
but  though  John's  pulse  beat  fast  it  was  with  excite 
ment  and  not  with  exhaustion.  At  the  summit  he 
saw  the  figure  emerge  upon  an  open  space  upon 
which  stood  a  slender  round  tower  of  considerable 
height. 

John  stopped  at  the  edge  of  the  pines  and  saw  the 
figure  disappear  within  the  tower,  upon  the  summit 
of  which  something  presently  began  to  flash  and 
crackle.  He  caught  his  breath  and  the  blood  leaped 
fiercely  through  his  veins.  He  knew  that  the  tower 
was  a  wireless  signal  station  and  that  it  was  talking 
to  another  somewhere.  It  sent,  too,  as  he  well  knew, 
through  the  velvety  blue  of  the  night  the  message 
that  Mademoiselle  Julie  Lannes,  Suzanne,  her  maid, 
and  John  Scott,  the  American,  were  in  the  village 
of  Obenstein  where  they  could  be  taken. 

He  cursed  himself  for  a  fool,  thrice  a  fool !  Why 
had  he  not  understood  long  before?  Why  had  he 
not  seen  that  so  many  coincidences  could  not  be  the 
result  of  chance?  Only  design  and  skill  could  have 
brought  them  about!  Who  had  disabled  the  automo 
bile  in  that  flight  with  Carstairs  and  Wharton  from 
the  Germans?  Who  had  sought  to  delay  Lannes 
until  he  could  be  caught  by  the  enemy?  Who  was 
the  mysterious  man  in  the  aeroplane  who  had  wounded 

307 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

Philip,  who  had  led  John  from  the  chateau  under  the 
very  rifles  of  the  waiting  marksmen,  and  who  had 
been  responsible  for  Julie's  capture  at  Chastel?  That 
letter,  purporting  to  be  from  Philip,  and  directing  her 
to  come  to  Chastel,  was  surely  a  forgery! 

These  and  all  the  other  details  crashed  upon  him 
with  cumulative  force,  and  he  was  so  mad  with  fury 
that  he  thought  his  heart  would  burst  with  the  surg 
ing  blood.  Why  had  the  man  worked  with  such 
energy  and  such  cruel  persistence  against  him?  But 
his  wonder  quickly  passed,  because  the  reason  did 
not  matter  now.  Instead  he  put  his  finger  on  the 
trigger  of  the  automatic  and  waited. 

The  wireless  flashed  and  crackled  for  five  minutes, 
then  five  minutes  of  silence  and  the  figure  of  Weber 
reappeared  at  the  base  of  the  tower.  He  lingered 
there  for  a  little  space  looking  warily  about  him, 
before  he  began  the  descent  of  the  mountain,  and  John 
quietly  withdrew  further  into  the  pines.  Weber  pres 
ently  crossed  the  open  space,  entering  the  forest,  and 
John,  noiseless,  retreated  before  him. 

Thus  they  proceeded  down  the  mountain  until  the 
wireless  tower  was  left  several  hundred  yards  behind 
and  they  were  buried  deep  in  the  pine  forest.  Then 
John  stepped  suddenly  into  the  road  not  twenty  yards 
before  the  Alsatian  and  leveling  his  automatic  said 
sharply : 

"Hands  up,  Weber!" 

Weber  started  violently  and  slowly  raised  his  hands. 
But  he  said  with  composure: 

"Why  this  sudden  violence,  Mr.  Scott?" 
308 


THE  HAPPY  ESCAPE 

"Because  you  have  been  upon  the  wireless  tower 
signaling  to  our  enemies.  I've  just  understood  every 
thing,  Weber.  You're  a  German  and  not  a  French 
spy,  and  you've  played  the  traitor  to  Julie  and  Philip 
Lannes  and  me  all  along." 

There  was  enough  moonlight  for  John  to  see  that 
Weber's  face  was  distorted  by  an  evil  smile. 

"You've  been  a  trifle  slow  in  discovering  just  what 
I  am,"  he  said,  calmly.  "I've  wondered  that  a  young 
man  of  your  perception  didn't  find  me  out  earlier." 

John  flushed.  The  Alsatian's  effrontery,  in  truth, 
had  been  amazing  and  in  that  perhaps  lay  his  success 
— so  far. 

"It's  true,"  he  said,  "I  should  have  suspected  you 
sooner,  but  it  did  not  occur  to  me  that  human  nature 
could  be  so  vile.  To  undertake  such  risks  and  to  use 
so  much  trickery  and  guile  there  must  be  a  powerful 
motive,  and  in  your  case  I  can't  guess  it.  Now, 
Weber,  why  did  you  do  it?" 

"Let  me  drop  my  hands,  Mr.  Scott,  and  I'll  answer 
you,"  said  Weber.  "It's  difficult  to  argue  a  case  in 
such  a  strained  and  awkward  position." 

"Put  them  down,  then,  but  remember  that  I'm 
watching  you,  and  that  I'm  willing  to  shoot.  Now, 
go  ahead.  Why  have  you  been  such  a  persistent 
enemy  of  Mademoiselle  Lannes,  her  brother  and  my 
self?  Why  have  you  been  such  a  triple  traitor?" 

"Don't  call  me  a  traitor,  because  a  traitor  I  am  not. 
On  the  contrary  I  am  loyal  with  a  loyalty  of  which 
you,  John  Scott,  an  American,  know  nothing.  I've 
called  myself  an  Alsatian,  but  really  I  am  not.  I  am 

309 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

an  Austrian.  I  was  born  on  the  Zillenstein  estate 
of  Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg.  My  family  has  served 
his  for  a  thousand  years.  Great  as  I  hold  Hapsburg 
and  Hohenzollern,  Auersperg  means  even  more  to  me. 
The  Auerspergs  are  the  very  essence  and  spirit  of 
that  aristocracy  and  rule  of  the  very  highborn,  in 
which  I  believe  and  to  which  your  country  and  later 
the  French  have  stood  in  the  exact  opposite.  Every 
time  that  my  pulse  beats  within  me  it  beats  with  the 
wish  that  you  and  all  that  you  stand  for  should  fail." 

John  did  not  feel  the  slightest  doubt  of  Weber's 
sincerity.  The  increasing  moonlight,  falling  in  a  silver 
flood  across  his  face,  showed  too  clearly  his  earnest 
ness.  Yet  that  earnestness  was  not  good  to  look  upon. 
It  was  sinister,  tinged  strongly  with  the  beliefs  of  an 
old  and  wicked  past.  He  too,  like  his  master,  was 
of  the  Middle  Ages. 

"And  so  in  all  these  deeds  you  were  serving  Prince 
Karl  of  Auersperg?"  said  John. 

"To  the  death.  It  was  a  false  escape  that  I  planned 
for  you  at  the  chateau.  You  were  to  have  been  shot 
down,  but  by  an  unlucky  chance  you  escaped  in  the 
water." 

"I've  surmised  that  already." 

"I'm  an  aviator,  not  so  great  as  your  friend  Lannes, 
but  no  mean  one  nevertheless.  It  was  I  who  pursued 
him,  when  you  were  with  him  in  the  Arrow  near  Paris, 
and  wounded  him." 

"I've  surmised  that,  too." 

"And  when  Prince  Karl  coveted  Mademoiselle  Julie 
Lannes — and  I  do  not  blame  him — I  was  of  the  most 

310 


THE  HAPPY  ESCAPE 

help  to  him  in  that  matter  so  near  to  his  heart.  Do 
you  understand  that  it  was  a  great  honor  he  offered 
Mademoiselle  Lannes,  to  make  her  his  morganatic 
wife?  He  need  not  have  offered  her  so  much." 

The  great  pulse  in  John's  throat  beat  heavily  and 
his  hand  pressed  the  automatic,  but  he  compressed  his 
lips  and  said  nothing. 

"I  see  that  my  words  anger  you,"  continued  Weber, 
"but  from  my  point  of  view  I  am  right.  I  serve  my 
overlord !" 

"What  message  were  you  sending  by  the  wireless 
from  the  tower?" 

"Doubtless  you  have  guessed  it.  I  was  sending 
word  to  the  detachment  now  on  the  road  from  Zil- 
lenstein  to  come  here  for  Mademoiselle  Lannes,  her 
maid  and  you.  They're  ahorse,  and  they  should  ar 
rive  in  three  hours  and  you  can't  possibly  escape. 
Before  Prince  Karl  was  compelled  to  leave  for  the 
theater  of  war  he  put  this  most  important  affair  in 
my  charge.  He  has  not  yet  yielded  all  hope  of  Made 
moiselle  Lannes." 

"It  may  be  true  that  we  can't  escape,  but  what  of 
yourself,  Weber?  We're  alone  in  the  forest  and  I 
hold  the  whip  hand.  The  score  that  I  owe  you  is 
large.  You  may  have  wrecked  the  life  of  Made 
moiselle  Julie  and  perhaps  you  will  destroy  my  own, 
but  you  said  it  would  be  three  hours  before  the  de 
tachment  arrived,  and  I  need  only  a  few  seconds." 

"But  I  don't  think  you'll  fire,  Mr.  Scott." 

"Why,  Weber?" 

"Because  I  fire  first !" 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

Absorbed  in  the  talk  John  had  unconsciously  low 
ered  the  automatic,  and,  as  agile  as  a  panther,  Weber 
suddenly  leaped  to  one  side,  snatched  a  revolver  from 
his  own  pocket  and  pulled  the  trigger.  But  the  bullet 
flew  wild.  A  huge  shadow  hovered  over  him  and  a 
weight  crashed  upon  his  head,  smiting  him  down  as 
if  he  had  been  struck  by  a  giant  shell.  He  sank  in 
the  path  and  lay  motionless,  dead  ere  he  fell. 

John  stared,  stricken  with  horror.  The  great 
shadow  bent  down  a  moment  over  the  fallen  man, 
then  straightened  itself  up  again,  and  two  eyes  in 
which  the  vengeful  fire  had  not  yet  died  gazed  at 
John.  Then  as  his  dazed  mind  cleared  he  saw  and 
knew.  It  was  Antoine  Picard,  the  gigantic  and  faith 
ful  servitor  of  the  Lannes  family. 

"Antoine!  Antoine!"  cried  John.  "How  did  you 
come  here?  I  thought  you  were  in  Munich!" 

"It  seems,  your  honor,  that  I'm  here  at  the  right 
moment.  His  bullet  would  certainly  have  found  your 
heart  had  not  my  club  descended  upon  his  head  at 
the  very  instant  that  his  finger  touched  the  trigger. 
He'll  never  stir  again." 

"But  Antoine,  it's  you,  yourself!  It  doesn't  seem 
real  that  you  should  be  here  at  such  a  time!" 

"It's  none  other  than  Antoine  Picard,  your  honor, 
and  he  never  struck  a  truer  or  more  timely  blow.  They 
were  to  hold  me  a  prisoner  in  Munich,  but  I  escaped. 
I  did  not  return  to  France.  I  could  never  desert 
Mademoiselle  Julie,  and  I  followed.  My  size  drew 
their  attention,  but  in  one  way  or  another  I  kept  down 
suspicion  or  escaped  them.  I  traced  Mademoiselle 

312 


THE  HAPPY  ESCAPE 

Julie  and  my  daughter  to  the  great  castle  and  then 
to  the  lodge  on  the  mountain.  I  saw  the  traitor  who 
lies  so  justly  dead  here  talking  with  German  troops, 
and  I  knew  that  there  was  need  for  me  to  hasten. 
In  the  night  I  stole  the  horse  of  a  Uhlan  and  galloped 
to  Obenstein. 

"I  approached  the  inn  just  in  time  to  see  the  traitor 
come  forth,  and  knowing  that  he  was  bent  upon  some 
devil's  work  I  followed  him  to  the  signal  tower.  I 
did  not  see  you  until  he  started  back  and  then  I  bided 
my  time.  I  was  in  the  bush  not  ten  feet  from  him 
while  you  talked." 

"Lucky  for  your  mistress  and  lucky  for  us  all  that 
you  were,  Picard!" 

"We  must  leave  Obenstein,  your  honor,  at  once!" 

"Of  course,  Picard.  We  must  take  flight  in  the 
machine." 

"As  it  would  be  hard  to  explain  my  presence,  your 
honor,  suppose  I  wait  down  the  road  for  you.  I've 
already  turned  the  horse  loose  in  the  forest.  First  I'll 
move  this  from  the  path  lest  someone  see  it  and  give 
the  alarm  too  soon." 

He  lifted  the  body  of  Weber  and  hid  it  among  the 
bushes.  Then  they  separated,  John  returning  quickly 
to  the  inn.  He  saw  a  light  in  Julie's  window  and 
inferring  that  she  had  not  yet  retired  he  went  hastily 
to  her  room  and  knocked  on  the  door. 

"Who's  there?"  came  the  brave  voice  of  his  be 
loved. 

"It's  John !"  he  replied,  guardedly.  "Open  at  once, 
Julie!  We're  in  great  danger  and  must  act  quickly!" 

313 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

He  heard  the  bolt  shoot  back,  the  door  was  opened, 
and  Julie  stood  before  him,  pale  but  erect  and  cour 
ageous.  Behind  her,  as  usual,  hovered  the  protecting 
shadow  of  Suzanne.  John  stepped  inside  and  closed 
the  door. 

"Julie,"  he  said,  in  a  whisper,  sharp  with  anxiety, 
"we  must  leave  Obenstein  in  fifteen  minutes !  Weber 
is  a  traitor  in  the  service  of  Prince  Karl  of  Auers- 
perg!  He  followed  us  to  get  you  back  to  him!  He 
has  been  signaling  from  a  wireless  station  on  the 
mountain!  A  detachment  of  hussars  will  be  here  in 
three  hours!" 

Her  pallor  deepened,  but  the  courage  that  he  loved 
still  glowed  in  her  eyes. 

"But  Weber?"  she  said.    "He  will  stop  our  flight?" 

"He  will  never  harm  us  more,  Julie.    He  is  dead." 

"You—" 

"No,  Julie,  I  did  not  kill  him.  It  was  a  stronger 
arm  than  mine  that  struck  the  blow.  Suzanne,  your 
father  is  waiting  for  us  in  the  forest.  He  has  fol 
lowed  us  all  the  way  from  Munich  to  Zillenstein,  to 
the  lodge,  and  here  to  Obenstein.  It  was  he  who  sent 
Weber  to  the  doom  that  he  deserved." 

"Ah!"  said  Suzzane,  and  John  saw  her  stern  eyes 
shining.  She  was  the  worthy  daughter  of  her 
father. 

"Put  on  your  cloaks  and  hoods  at  once,"  said  John, 
"and  I'll  have  the  automobile  out  in  a  few  minutes! 
It  doesn't  matter  what  they  think  at  the  inn.  We 
disregard  it  and  fly." 

Suzanne,  quick  and  capable,  began  to  prepare  her 


THE  HAPPY  ESCAPE 

mistress  and  John  went  down  to  the  innkeeper.  He 
was  so  swift  and  emphatic  that  the  worthy  Austrian 
was  dazed,  and,  after  all  a  princess  of  the  house  of 
Auersperg  had  a  right  to  her  whims.  It  was  not 
for  him  to  question  the  minds  of  the  great,  and  the 
heavy  gold  piece  that  John  dropped  into  his  hands 
was  potent  to  allay  undue  curiosity. 

The  automobile  properly  equipped  was  before  the 
main  door  of  the  inn  within  ten  minutes.  John  helped 
into  it  the  hooded  and  cloaked  figure  of  the  great 
lady,  and  her  maid,  also  hooded  and  cloaked,  fol 
lowed.  Then  he  sprang  into  his  own  seat,  turned 
the  wheel,  and  the  huge  machine  shot  down  the  road. 
But  at  the  first  curve  it  slackened  speed,  then  stopped 
for  an  instant  beside  a  dark  figure,  and  when  it  went 
on  again  four  instead  of  three  rode. 

Picard  sat  beside  his  daughter  and  in  those  two 
faithful  hearts  was  no  doubt  of  their  escape. 

"Antoine,"  said  Julie,  "I  know  that  we  owe  our 
lives  to  you." 

She  offered  him  a  small  gloved  hand.  It  rested 
in  his  giant  grasp  a  moment,  then  he  raised  it  to 
his  lips  and  kissed  it. 

"I'd  have  followed  you  across  the  world,  my  lady," 
he  said. 

-"I  know  it,  Antoine." 

John,  watching  intently,  sent  the  machine  forward 
at  fair  speed.  The  road  again  stretched  before  him 
lone  and  white  in  the  moonlight,  which  fell  in  a  heavy 
silver  shower.  He  did  not  know  where  they  were 
going,  but  there  was  the  road,  and  the  hussars  could 

315 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

not  ride  hard  enough  to  overtake  them.  Now  and 
then  he  stole  a  glance  at  Julie,  and  the  same  indomit 
able  courage  was  always  shining  in  her  eyes.  She  was 
not  weary  and  she  was  as  wide  awake  as  he.  By  and 
by  both  Antoine  and  Suzanne  slept,  sitting  upright, 
but  Julie,  wrapped  almost  to  the  eyes  in  cloak  and 
hood,  was  still  quiet,  watching  everything  with  wide 
fearless  eyes.  John  brought  the  machine  down  to  a 
slow  pace  and  guided  it  for  the  moment  with  one 
hand. 

"Julie,"  he  said  softly,  "I  don't  know  where  we're 
going,  but  I  know  that  we'll  escape,  and  knowing  it 
I  now  have  something  to  ask  you." 

"What  is  it,  John?" 

"When  we  reach  Paris,  you'll  marry  me,  Julie?" 

"Yes,  John,  I'll  marry  you." 

The  other  hand  came  from  the  wheel  and  as  he 
leaned  back,  they  kissed  in  the  moonlight.  The  great 
machine  ran  on,  unguided  but  true.  They  kissed  again 
in  the  moonlight,  and  for  a  splendid  moment  or  two 
her  arms  were  about  his  neck. 

"Julie,"  whispered  John,  "will  your  mother  con 
sent?" 

"Yes,  when  I  tell  her  to  do  so." 

"And  Philip?" 

"Yes,  without  telling." 

The  automobile,  still  unguided,  ran  on  straight 
and  true  as  if  it  were  alive,  and  knew  that  it  carried 
the  precious  freight  of  two  young  and  faithful  hearts, 
and  that  nothing  else  in  all  the  world  was  so  tender 
and  true  as  young  love. 


THE  HAPPY  ESCAPE 

Far  in  the  night,  when  the  road  had  climbed  up 
the  hills,  John  saw  a  light  flashing  and  winking  in 
the  valley,  and  from  a  more  distant  point  another 
light  winked  and  flashed  in  reply.  He  read  the  fiery 
signals  and  he  knew  that  the  alarm  was  abroad.  The 
hussars  had  come  to  Obenstein,  only  to  find  that  the 
birds  had  flown,  and  doubtless,  too,  to  find  among 
the  bushes  the  dead  body  of  Weber,  Prince  Karl's 
most  trusted  and  unscrupulous  agent.  Julie  had  gone 
to  sleep  at  last  and  Antoine  and  Suzanne  slumbered  on. 

He  alone  watched  and  worked,  and  for  a  few 
moments  he  felt  a  chill  of  dread.  The  hussars  would 
spread  the  alarm  and  the  whole  country  would  now 
be  seeking  them.  He  saw  a  road  turning  from  the 
main  one,  and  leading  deeper  into  the  mountains. 
Instinctively  he  followed  it,  like  an  animal  seeking 
hiding  in  the  wilderness,  and  now  the  machine  rose 
fast  on  the  slopes,  dense  forest  lining  the  way  on 
either  side.  Far  below  in  the  valley  the  lights  and 
the  wireless  signals  talked  incessantly  to  one  another 
and  the  hounds  were  hot  on  the  chase. 

It  was  about  halfway  between  midnight  and  morn 
ing  when  John  stopped  the  machine  among  dense 
pines  on  the  very  crest  of  a  mountain,  where  the  road, 
without  any  reason,  seemed  to  end.  Antoine  awoke 
with  a  start  and,  springing  out,  began  to  curse  himself 
under  his  breath  for  having  gone  to  sleep. 

"Take  no  blame,  Antoine,"  said  John.  "You  could 
have  done  nothing  then,  and  it  was  much  better  for 
you  to  have  slept.  You  now  have  back  all  your 
strength  and  we  may  need  it." 

317 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

Julie  awoke  with  a  start  and  after  a  moment  or 
two  of  bewilderment  understood.  Then  she  gave  John 
that  old  brilliant,  flashing  look,  softened  now  by  the 
memory  of  a  kiss  when  no  hand  was  at  the  wheel. 

"Julie,"  said  John,  trusting  as  ever  in  her  courage, 
"we  seem  to  have  come  to  the  end  of  things.  Our 
enemies  are  in  the  valley  following  us,  and  it's  not 
hard  to  trace  the  path  of  our  automobile.  I  don't 
know  how  many  will  come,  but  Antoine  and  I  can 
make  a  stand  with  the  rifles." 

"All  hope  is  not  yet  lost !"  said  Suzanne,  in  a  voice 
as  deep  as  that  of  a  man.  "Remember  that  when 
the  earth  cannot  hide  us  the  air  may  open  to  receive 
us.  Remember,  too,  Mademoiselle  Julie,  that  your 
brother  seeks  you,  and  when  the  time  comes  we  are 
to  look  aloft." 

Driven  again  by  that  extraordinary  impulse,  John 
and  Julie  gazed  up.  But  they  saw  only  the  dancing 
stars  in  the  blue  velvet  of  the  sky. 

"He  may  come !  He  may  come  in  time !"  said  Su 
zanne,  speaking  like  an  inspired  prophet  of  old,  and 
her  manner  carried  conviction.  John,  clinging  to  the 
last  desperate  hope,  recalled  how  Lannes  and  he  had 
summoned  Castelneau  and  Mery  from  the  sky  to 
save  them,  and  though  it  was  a  wild  hope  he  resolved 
to  send  up  the  same  signal. 

It  was  a  quick  task  to  gather  dry  wood  and  build 
a  little  heap,  Julie  and  Suzanne  helping  with  energy 
and  enthusiasm.  There  were  plenty  of  matches  in 
the  car,  and  presently  John  lighted  the  heap,  which 
crackled  and  sent  up  leaping  tongues  of  flame. 


THE  HAPPY  ESCAPE 

"It  may  serve  also  as  a  signal  to  those  who  follow 
us,"  he  said,  "but  we  must  take  the  chance.  Cavalry 
can't  reach  us  except  by  the  road  that  we  came  and 
with  our  rifles  we  can  hold  it  a  long  time." 

The  mention  of  the  word  "rifle,"  put  a  thought 
in  the  head  of  Antoine  Picard,  in  whose  veins  the 
blood  of  Vikings  flowed,  and  who  that  night  was  a 
veritable  Viking  of  the  land.  Leaving  John  and  the 
two  women  to  feed  the  signal  fire,  he  secured  one 
of  the  powerful  breech-loading  rifles  from  the  auto 
mobile,  and  quietly  stole  down  the  path. 

Antoine,  although  he  held  a  modern  weapon  in  his 
hand,  had  shed  centuries  of  civilization.  As  still  as 
death  as  he  trod  lightly  in  the  dark  road,  he  was, 
nevertheless,  consumed  with  the  wild  Berserk  rage 
against  those  who  followed  him.  He  knew  that  hus 
sars  would  soon  appear  on  the  slope,  but  he  intended 
that  a  lion  should  be  in  their  path  and  he  stroked  lov 
ingly  the  barrel  of  the  powerful  breech-loader.  Behind 
him  the  flames  were  shooting  higher  and  higher,  pour 
ing  red  streaks  against  the  velvet  blue  of  the  sky.  But 
all  of  Picard's  attention  was  concentrated  now  on 
what  lay  before  him. 

He  heard  soon  the  distant  beat  of  hoofs  and  he 
drew  a  little  to  the  side  of  the  road,  down  which  he 
could  see  a  long  distance,  as  it  stretched  straight 
before  him,  narrow  and  steep.  He  made  out  clearly 
a  half  dozen  figures,  hussars  struggling  forward  on 
tired  horses,  and  he  chuckled  a  little  to  himself.  It 
was  a  splendid  weapon  that  he  held  in  his  hand,  and 
he  was  a  great  marksman.  Armed  as  he  was,  he  felt 

319 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

that  he  had  little  to  fear  on  that  lone  mountain  road 
from  six  or  seven  horsemen. 

He  pushed  the  rifle  forward  a  little  and  waited  in 
the  shadow  of  the  pines.  The  hoofbeats  rang  louder, 
and  the  shadows  became  the  distinct  figures  of  horses 
and  men.  Picard  uttered  a  deep  "Ah!"  because  he 
recognized  the  one  who  led  them,  a  powerful,  erect 
man,  the  Prussian  Rudolf  von  Boehlen,  now  in  the 
very  center  of  the  moonlight. 

When  they  were  yet  two  hundred  yards  away, 
Picard  stepped  into  the  middle  of  the  road  and  called 
to  them  in  a  loud  voice  to  halt.  He  saw  von  Boehlen 
throw  up  his  head,  say  something  to  his  troop,  and 
then  try  to  urge  his  horse  to  a  faster  gait. 

Picard  sighed.  He  knew  that  von  Boehlen  was  a 
brave  man  and  he  respected  brave  men.  A  disagree 
able  task  lay  before  him,  one  that  must  be  done,  but 
he  would  give  him  another  chance.  He  called  again 
and  louder  than  before  for  them  to  halt,  but  von 
Boehlen  came  on  steadily.  Then  Picard  promptly 
raised  his  rifle  and  shot  him  through  the  heart. 

When  von  Boehlen  fell  dead  in  the  road  his  hussars 
halted  and  while  they  were  hesitating  Picard  shot  the 
horses  of  two  under  them,  while  a  third  received  a 
bullet  in  the  shoulder.  Then  all  of  them  fled  on  horse 
or  on  foot  into  the  valley  while  Picard  went  calmly 
back  to  the  fire  which  was  now  sending  its  signal  across 
the  whole  heavens.  He  told  John  in  a  whisper  of 
what  had  befallen,  and  soon  he  returned  to  his  place 
in  the  road  to  watch. 

John  and  Julie  by  and  by  left  Suzanne  to  feed  the 
320 


THE  HAPPY  ESCAPE 

fire  and  they  stood  hand  in  hand  gazing  now  at  the 
heavens  and  now  at  the  dark  pine  forests.  The  velvet 
blue  of  the  sky  faded  into  the  dark  hour  and  then 
the  dawn  came,  edged  with  silver,  turning  to  pink 
and  then  to  gold,  like  a  robe  of  many  colors,  drawn 
slowly  out  of  the  infinite.  Suzanne  suddenly  uttered 
a  great  cry. 

"Look  up !    Look  up,  my  children !"  she  cried. 

Coming  out  of  the  west  which  was  yet  in  dusk 
was  a  black  dot  and  then  three  others — behind  it  in 
Indian  file. 

"We're  saved,"  cried  Suzanne.  "It's  Monsieur 
Philip  and  his  friends!" 

"How  do  you  know?  You  can't  see  yet,"  said 
John,  almost  afraid  to  hope. 

"I  don't  need  to  see  it!  I  feel  it,  and  I  know!" 
replied  Suzanne.  "Look,  how  they  come!" 

John  trembled  and  the  hand  of  Julie  in  his  own 
trembled  too,  but  it  was  not  fear,  it  was  the  feeling 
that  a  miracle,  a  miracle  to  save  them,  was  coming  to 
pass. 

The  four  black  dots  moved  on  out  of  the  west  and 
John  knew  that  they  were  aeroplanes  coming  swiftly 
and  directly  toward  their  mountain.  The  dawn  reach 
ing  the  zenith  spread  also  to  the  west  and  the  flying 
machines  were  outlined  clearly  in  the  luminous  golden 
haze.  Then  John,  too,  uttered  a  great  cry. 

He  knew  the  slender  sinuous  shape  that  led.  As 
far  as  eye  could  reach  he  would  recognize  the  Arrow. 
The  miracle  was  done.  They  had  called  to  Philip 
in  their  desperate  need  and  he  had  come. 

321 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

"Philip  and  the  Arrow!"  he  exclaimed.  "We're 
saved !" 

"I  knew  that  he  would  come!"  Julie  said,  as  she 
stared  wide-eyed  into  the  blue  and  gold  of  the 
heavens. 

Now  the  aeroplanes  flew  at  almost  incredible  speed, 
the  Arrow  always  at  their  head,  poised  for  a  few 
moments  directly  over  their  heads,  and  then  came  down 
in  a  dazzling  series  of  spirals,  landing  almost  at  their 
feet. 

"Philip,  my  brother !"  exclaimed  Julie,  as  the  slender 
compact  figure  that  they  knew  so  well  stepped  grace 
fully  from  the  Arrow. 

He  took  off  his  heavy  glasses  and  gazed  at  them 
as  they  stood,  forgetting  that  they  were  still  hand  in 
hand.  Then  he  smiled  and  lifting  his  cap  in  his  old 
dramatic  way  he  said: 

"It  seems  that  for  several  reasons  I  didn't  come 
too  soon." 

"No,"  replied  John,  calmly,  and  holding  firmly  the 
little  hand  in  his,  "you  have  arrived  just  in  time  to 
give  your  consent  to  my  marriage  with  your  sister." 

"And  what  does  Mademoiselle  Julie  Lannes  say?" 

The  rising  sun  clothed  Julie  in  a  shower  of  gold. 
Never  before  had  the  wonderful  golden  hair  seemed 
more  wonderful.  Never  before  had  she  seemed  to 
the  youthful  eyes  of  her  lover  more  nearly  divine. 

"Julie  Lannes  says,"  she  replied  bravely,  "that  if 
John  Scott  wishes  her  to  be  his  wife  and  her  mother 
and  brother  consent  she  will  gladly  marry  him." 

"Then  we  must  hurry  away,  or  it  will  be  a  wed- 
322 


THE  HAPPY  ESCAPE 

ding  without  either  a  bride  or  a  bridegroom.  Are  not 
those  Austrian  hussars  at  the  bottom  of  the  slope, 
Picard?" 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

"Then  it's  up  and  away  with  us.  Here  are  Cau- 
martin,  Mery  and  Castelneau,  old  friends  of  yours, 
John,  but  it  was  Delaunois  who  brought  me  the 
last  news  of  you.  Caumartin  has  the  Omnibus, 
and  in  it  the  bridal  pair  must  travel.  I  can't  take 
you  with  me  in  the  Arrow  now,  John,  as  it  admits 
of  only  a  single  passenger.  But  do  you,  Picard,  take 
the  rifles  and  come  with  me.  We'll  cover  the  rear 
of  our  flight.  Now,  hasten!  Hasten!" 

John  and  Julie  in  an  instant  were  side  by  side  in 
the  Omnibus,  Picard,  forgetting  all  fear  of  aeroplanes, 
was  with  Philip,  and  the  four  machines  rose,  circling 
above  the  mountain,  Caumartin's  big  plane  leading. 
John  and  Julie  sat  very  close  together  and  her  hand 
was  again  in  his. 

"Fear  not,  dearest,"  he  said.  "When  all  seemed 
lost  Philip  came  for  us." 

"But  you  came  for  me  first  and  you  risked  your 
life  many  times.  To  give  myself  to  you  seems  but  a 
small  reward  for  all  that  you've  done." 

"It's  a  reward  that  kings  and  princes  in  their  power 
cannot  win." 

Then  they  fell  silent,  their  emotion  too  deep  for 
speech.  Philip  had  spoken  in  jest,  but  it  was  almost 
like  a  wedding  trip.  The  hussars  below  had  reached 
the  abandoned  automobile,  and  fired  vain  shots  at 
the  disappearing  aeroplanes,  but  John  and  Julie  heeded 

323 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

them  not.  War  and  brute  passions  were  left  behind, 
and  they  were  sailing  through  the  calm  blue  ether. 

Caumartin,  the  stalwart,  was  wholly  absorbed  in 
steering  his  great  machine  and  they  sat  behind  him, 
very  close  together,  still  hand  in  hand,  watching  the 
great  panorama  of  the  heavens,  unrolled  before 
them.  It  was  the  most  beautiful  sky  that  they  had 
ever  seen,  dyed  that  day  into  intensely  vivid  colors 
by  the  master  hand.  Far  away  were  great  pink  ter 
races  of  color,  changing  to  blue  or  gold  or  silver, 
while  below  them  revolved  the  earth,  clad  in  deep 
est  green,  save  where  far  peaks  were  crested  with 
snow. 

Both  John  and  Julie  breathed  an  infinite  peace.  The 
war  sank  farther  and  farther  away,  as  they  sailed 
on  through  peaceful  heavens,  surcharged  with  infinite 
color.  Both  felt,  with  the  certainty  of  truth,  that 
their  troubles  and  dangers  were  over,  and  they  now 
left  the  journey  and  its  needs  to  Philip  and  his  able 
comrades. 

"After  we're  married,  Julie,  you'll  go  to  America 
with  me  for  awhile,"  said  John,  "but  we'll  come  back 
to  France.  We  shall  divide  our  time  between  two 
homes,  your  country  and  mine,  now  the  countries  of 
both." 

The  hand  within  his  own  returned  his  pressure. 
Caumartin  turned  his  machine  toward  the  north, 
avoiding  neutral  Switzerland,  and  sailing  at  great 
speed  they  passed  beyond  the  German  lines  and  over 
the  fair  land  of  France  that  all  of  them  loved  so 
well. 

324 


THE  HAPPY  ESCAPE 

Caumartin  kept  his  place  in  front.  Suzanne  was 
in  the  machine  just  behind  and  Philip  and  Picard  in 
the  Arrow  always  hovered  in  the  rear.  That  night 
they  descended  within  the  French  lines,  and  John 
heard  the  next  day  that  Prince  Karl  of  Auersperg 
had  been  killed  in  battle.  It  was  singular,  perhaps, 
but  John  felt  a  touch  of  pity  for  him.  He  had  wanted 
something  very  greatly  and,  powerful  prince  though 
he  was,  his  power  had  not  been  great  enough  to  win 

it  for  him. 

*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

They  were  married  in  Notre  Dame  by  the  Arch 
bishop  of  Paris.  The  influence  of  John's  uncle,  the 
senator  and  great  mining  millionaire,  was  sufficient 
to  procure  John's  release  from  the  army.  In  truth, 
General  Vaugirard,  although  he  was  fat  and  sixty, 
had  a  strong  vein  of  sentiment,  and  he  was  one  of 
the  most  distinguished  guests  in  Notre  Dame,  where 
he  puffed  mightily  and  kept  himself  with  great  diffi 
culty  from  whistling  his  approval.  He  and  Senator 
Pomeroy  stood  together  and  he  nodded  emphatically 
when  the  senator  told  him,  with  a  certain  pride  in  his 
whisper,  that  while  John,  his  sole  heir,  was  not  a 
prince,  he  could  buy  and  sell  many  who  were. 

General  Vaugirard  was  not  the  only  distinguished 
officer  at  the  marriage.  There  was  a  lull  in  the  oper 
ations  and  all  of  John's  friends  came  to  Paris  to  see 
him  wed  the  beautiful  Julie  Lannes.  A  little  man, 
with  the  brow  of  a  Napoleon,  the  famous  general, 
Bougainville,  whose  rise  had  been  so  astonishing,  stood 
beside  General  Vaugirard. 

325 


THE  HOSTS  OF  THE  AIR 

Daniel  Colton,  now  a  colonel,  his  arm  in  a  sling, 
was  not  far  away.  Carstairs  was  there,  a  bandage 
about  his  head,  and  Wharton  was  with  him,  his 
shoulder  yet  sore  from  the  path  that  a  bullet  had 
made  through  it.  It  was  decreed  that  while  these 
friends  of  John's  should  receive  many  wounds,  all  of 
them  were  to  survive  the  great  war. 

They  were  to  spend  three  days  at  the  little  house 
beyond  the  Seine  before  sailing,  and  as  the  twilight 
came  on  they  sat  together  and  looked  out  over  the 
City  of  Light,  melting  into  the  dusk  after  a  golden 
day.  The  subdued  hum  of  Paris  came  to  them  in  a 
note  of  infinite  sweetness  and  peace. 

John  was  stirred  to  the  depths,  but  his  emotion,  like 
that  of  most  deep  natures,  was  quiet.  He  felt  Julie's 
hand  tremble  a  little  in  his  own,  as  the  voice  of  Paris 
grew  fainter  but  sweeter.  The  twilight  faded  into 
the  night  and  the  buildings  grew  misty. 

"We  have  passed  through  many  dangers,  Julie," 
said  John,  "but  for  me  at  least  the  reward  is 
greater  than  them  all.  When  did  you  begin  to  love 
me?" 

"You  were  my  gallant  knight  from  the  first,  but, 
if  it  had  not  been  so,  how  could  I  have  kept  from 
loving  the  fearless  crusader  who  dared  all  and  who 
risked  his  life  every  day  in  the  country  of  the  enemy 
to  save  me?" 

"I'd  have  been  a  poor  and  worthless  creature  if  I 
hadn't  done  so,  Julie." 

"Few  men  have  done  so,  though,  even  for  love." 

Stirred  by  an  emotion  deeper  than  ever,  and  wholly 
326 


THE  HAPPY  ESCAPE 

pure,  he  put  his  arms  around  her,  and  their  lips  met 
in  a  long  kiss  of  young  love. 

The  first  dusk  thinned  away,  the  sky  turned  to  a 
vault  of  burnished  silver,  and,  the  infinite  stars  coming 
out,  danced  their  approval. 


THE    EXD 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


1  8  1967 


Form  L9-100m-9,'52(A3105)444 


UC  SOUTHERN  REG  fflJJL   .^  f  ACILfW 


I  llll  III  III'1  IIH '  nnmtm 

A    001372707    8 


